It started subtly at first. A tightness in his chest, a dull ache in his side, moments of fatigue that he tried to pass off as stress. But as days passed, the pain became impossible to ignore.
Cooking, cleaning, even standing up for too long made him wince.
Ethan didn't complain. He couldn't. Luna already seemed distant, lost in a world that no longer included him. He couldn't burden her with his weakness. Not with her late nights, her constant outings, her indifferent laughter that echoed through the apartment when he waited quietly at home.
He tried to maintain the routines that had kept their life together intact. Rice cooked just right. Eggs fried to her liking. Coffee brewed exactly how she liked it. He left plates on the table, food untouched, while she slept off nights of parties he never attended.
But the pain was spreading. Nights became restless. Sleep was shallow, broken by spasms in his abdomen. His once-strong hands now shook slightly when he chopped vegetables. Even bending to pick up the camera after she fell asleep left him breathless.
One evening, as Luna finally stumbled in at dawn, he was seated on the couch, hunched slightly, one hand pressed to his side. She barely noticed him, yawning, brushing off the day's exhaustion, collapsing on the bed as if the apartment didn't exist.
"Ethan…" she murmured sleepily.
"I'm fine," he replied, voice tight. "Just… tired too, I guess."
She nodded, not looking at him, and rolled over.
Ethan pressed record on the camera, capturing her face, her hair sprawled across the pillow, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. He felt a lump in his throat. His secret, his illness, his dwindling time—all of it—was something she would never understand until it was too late.
He began keeping a closer eye on himself, taking notes in the small journal he hid in the kitchen drawer. Pain levels, meals eaten, sleep patterns, the days Luna stayed out late. Each note was a reminder of his dwindling time.
And still, he didn't tell her.
Because loving Luna had become an act of silent endurance. A quiet war fought behind smiles and empty plates. He would continue to cook, to clean, to wait, and to record every fleeting moment she allowed him to witness.
Even if it was killing him, slowly.
Because some loves are stronger than life itself.
And Ethan's love for Luna was about to prove that in the most heartbreaking way imaginable.