"You gave her your name?" Jonah said, incredulous. "Just like that?"
"It came up," Elias said defensively.
Amir leaned forward. "Did she give you hers?"
"Yes."
Jonah pressed his palms together. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are witnessing the collapse of the Elias Master Plan."
Elias smiled faintly. "Relax. I didn't ask for her number."
"Why not?" Amir asked.
Elias looked at his hands. "Because once I do that, I can't pretend this is theoretical anymore."
Jonah's expression softened. "Eli… you're allowed to want something real."
Elias swallowed. "I'm just trying not to leave wreckage behind."
Amir sighed. "You don't get to decide how people grieve."
"That's not fair," Elias said quietly.
"Neither is disappearing," Jonah replied.
Elias didn't argue.
Encounter Seventy-Five arrived with a mistake.
He had stayed up too late the night before, flipping through the notebook, rereading earlier entries like they belonged to a braver version of himself. By morning, his body felt like it was running on low battery, stubbornly refusing to recharge.
He saw Mara at the crosswalk near the hospital, sunlight catching in her hair.
He stepped forward to greet her.
The world tilted.
It wasn't dramatic. Just sudden. Like someone had nudged the horizon.
"Elias?" she said sharply, reaching for him as his knees buckled.
Her hands were warm. Steady.
"Hey," she said, guiding him to sit. "Hey. Look at me."
He focused on her face, grounding himself in details. The faint line on her chin. The concern pulling her brows together.
"I'm okay," he said weakly.
"No," she replied calmly. "You're not."
She crouched in front of him, checking his pulse with practiced fingers. Professional. Focused. But her eyes betrayed something else.
"Do you have a condition?" she asked.
Elias hesitated.
This time, the lie wouldn't come.
"Yes," he said.
She nodded slowly. "Are you under care?"
"Yes."
"Are you ignoring your limits?" she pressed.
He exhaled. "Probably."
She gave him a look that was half relief, half reprimand. "You don't win awards for that."
"I was never very competitive," he said, attempting a smile.
It worked, a little. Her lips curved despite herself.
She helped him to his feet, holding onto his arm longer than strictly necessary.
"You scared me," she said quietly.
"I'm sorry," Elias replied. And this time, he meant all of it.
After that, the counting changed.
The numbers still rose, but the weight behind them shifted. Each encounter felt less like a step toward something and more like a negotiation with time.
Encounter Eighty-One: shared coffee in silence, comfortable and fragile.
Encounter Eighty-Seven: laughter over something small and stupid. A pun about hospital food that Elias regretted immediately but Mara laughed at anyway. "That was bad," she said, smiling. "But I respect the effort."
Encounter Ninety: the first time she touched his hand without needing a reason.
"You're warm," she said softly.
"So I've been told," he replied, then added, "By my water bottle."
She groaned. "You're not allowed to make jokes when you're like this."
"Like what?"
"Like you're made of glass," she said, not meeting his eyes.
He didn't correct her.
Encounter Ninety-Nine came quietly.
They sat side by side on the same bench where they'd exchanged names weeks earlier. The sun was low, painting everything gold, like the day was trying to apologize in advance.
Elias felt the weight of the moment pressing against him.
"Do you ever feel like time is speeding up?" he asked suddenly.
Mara nodded. "All the time."
He took a breath. "If I asked you to stay a little longer today… would you?"
She looked at him, really looked.
"Yes," she said. "I would."
His heart pounded, loud and uncooperative.
He thought of the notebook. The numbers. The rule he'd made for himself when fear had still felt manageable.
One hundred.
He smiled, soft and terrified.
"Good," he said. "Because I think I'm ready to stop counting."