He is running out of time.

Diagnosed with a terminal illness he refuses to name out loud, a young man becomes fixated on a single belief: that before he dies, he must find the person he is meant to love. Not casually. Not briefly. Truly.

Then he starts seeing her.

On trains. In cafés. At pedestrian crossings. In waiting rooms. Always close enough to notice the way she tucks her hair behind her ear. The way she holds her jacket to her shoulder. But, never close enough to speak.

He begins counting their encounters. One becomes ten. Ten becomes fifty. He tells himself that if fate keeps placing her in his path, it must be asking something of him. He deliberately shapes his life around her orbit, believing that on the hundredth meeting, the universe will finally allow them to collide.

And it does.

They fall in love quietly. Genuinely. At the exact wrong time.

When his condition suddenly worsens, he vanishes without explanation, choosing disappearance over letting her witness his decline. She is left with unanswered questions, grief without closure, and a love that never had time to grow roots.

What neither of them knows is that she works as a nurse.

And fate, cruel and meticulous, brings her into the same hospital where he lies sedated, unrecognizable, and slipping away.

They pass each other in corridors. She tends to patients beside him. She hears fragments of his story spoken by others. When she finally stands before him, he cannot see her. Cannot know her. Cannot say her name.

Their love becomes a pattern of presence without recognition.

A story about timing that never forgives.
About love that arrives too late.
And about whether being seen, even once, can be enough.

By Encounter Forty, the notebook felt heavier.


By Forty-Two, he started skipping meals without noticing.


By Forty-Seven, Jonah began texting him things like Have you talked to her yet? and You're not a ghost, you know.


Encounter Fifty happened at a pedestrian crossing, their shoulders almost brushing as they waited for the light to change. She was humming softly, something tuneless but sincere.


Elias wanted to say something then. Anything.


The light changed. People moved. The city reclaimed her.


That night, Elias stared at the number fifty written on the page for a long time.


The thought frightened him more than comforted him.


Because for the first time, he allowed himself to imagine what might happen if he actually reached one hundred.


And for the first time, a darker thought followed close behind.


What if one hundred arrived… and he didn't?


Chapter 5 - Chapter Two: Numbers Don’t Lie (2)