"I'm dying, Aria."
The words slipped from Kael's lips like a sentence he'd carried for years, heavy and inescapable. They landed in the room like a dagger. The silence afterward wasn't peaceful—it was suffocating. The kind of silence that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed until breathing felt like betrayal.
Aria sat up, sheets pooling around her bare legs, her body still trembling from everything they'd just shared—and now this.
She blinked. "What… did you say?"
Kael sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, face hidden in his hands. The rain against the window sounded distant, like it belonged to a different world.
"I have a degenerative blood disorder," he said after a long pause. "Inherited. Rare. They didn't catch it until it was too far gone to treat."
She stared at him, her mind slow to catch up. "You can't be serious. No—this is some twisted excuse, isn't it? You leave, you come back, you mess with my head and now… this?"
"I didn't come back to mess with your head," Kael murmured. "I came back because I'm running out of time. Because no matter how far I went, I couldn't outrun you."
Her breath hitched. "Why didn't you tell me back then?"
"Because I didn't want you to look at me the way you are right now," he said, lifting his head. His eyes were hollow and tired, but they burned with something deeper—shame, fear, love. "I didn't want to be your tragedy."
Tears burned behind her eyes. Not out of pity, but fury. Love. Grief. All tangled.
"You coward," she whispered. "You think pushing me away would spare me pain? You think disappearing was the noble thing to do?"
"I thought it was mercy," he said softly.
"You don't get to decide what I can handle, Kael. You don't get to walk back into my life, rip open every scar, and drop a time bomb like that."
She stood, clutching her robe to her body, pacing the room. "You know what hurts the most? It's not that you're dying. It's that you let me believe I wasn't worth the truth."
He stood slowly, moving to her like she was something fragile and flammable at once. "You were always worth everything. That's the problem. I didn't know how to hold something that precious without breaking it."
She wanted to scream. To hit him. To kiss him until everything else vanished. But all she did was stare at him—this man she once knew, now fading before her eyes.
"How long?" she asked, voice barely audible.
"Months. Maybe a year, if I'm lucky."
A sob choked her. She covered her mouth, turned away from him.
"Don't do that," he said, stepping closer. "Don't cry for me, Aria. I don't want that."
She turned back to him with fire in her gaze. "Then what do you want, Kael? What could you possibly want from me now?"
"You."
The word was simple. Soft. But it shattered her.
"I want whatever time I have left with you," he said. "I want the mornings and the nights. The fights and the laughter. I want to make love to you like it's the last thing I'll ever do."
Her knees buckled, and he caught her before she hit the ground.
"I can't lose you again," she whispered against his chest. "Not now. Not like this."
"You won't," he said, wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. "Not until the very last second. And even then, I'll be yours."
They stood there for a long time, clinging to each other like lifelines.
That night, their lovemaking was different. It wasn't rushed or angry. It was slow. Reverent. Every touch a prayer, every kiss a promise. Kael worshipped her body like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world, and Aria gave herself to him like she could stop time with her skin.
Their bodies moved in perfect synchrony—his lips tracing the lines of her collarbone, her fingers digging into his back as he filled her, slow and deep, over and over again. Her legs wrapped tightly around his hips, pulling him closer, as if that alone could anchor him to the living.
He whispered her name like a lullaby.
She cried his like a vow.
And when they both fell apart, tangled in breath and sweat and emotion, it wasn't lust that lingered in the air—it was heartbreak.
He kissed her forehead afterward, his heartbeat slowing under her palm. She lay on his chest, silent tears sliding down her cheeks.
"I don't want to live in a world without you," she whispered.
"You won't have to," he murmured, brushing his fingers through her hair. "Because I'll never really leave you. You'll feel me in the sun, in the rain, in every song that makes you ache. I'll haunt you, Aria. That's my last gift."
She laughed through her tears. "That's a terrible gift."
"I know."
They fell asleep wrapped around each other, for the first time in years.
The next morning, Aria woke up to an empty bed.
Panic slammed into her chest. Her eyes darted around the room, searching, needing. But then she heard the sound of coffee brewing. The scent wafted through the apartment like a memory.
She padded out into the kitchen, her robe loose, hair messy, heart still racing.
Kael stood at the counter, shirtless, freshly showered. He turned and smiled at her, something soft and sad in his expression.
"You left," she accused gently.
"I went to make coffee," he said. "Calm down."
"You scared me."
"I know," he said. "Get used to that."
She walked to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I should hate you."
"But you don't."
"No," she whispered. "I love you."
He looked down at her with glassy eyes. "God, I missed hearing that."
"I should have said it more."
"We have time now," he said. "Not forever. But time."
She kissed him—long and slow, like a promise.
And then the doorbell rang.
They both stiffened.
Kael's expression changed. He went tense.
"Don't answer it," he said quickly.
"Why?"
He pulled away, grabbing his shirt and tossing it over his head. "It's not safe."
"Kael," she said, heart racing, "What's going on?"
He looked at her, guilt written all over his face.
"I didn't just come back for you, Aria. Someone's following me. Watching me."
Her blood ran cold.
"I thought I could outrun them. But they know."
"Know what?"
He reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a thick folder—sealed with a government mark.
"Everything."