Alekos
I kissed her—
and everything disappeared.
No contract. No rules. No odd days.
Just her.
She tasted like something I'd been denying myself for too long—soft, familiar, devastating. My hands moved without thinking, settling at her waist, pulling her closer like I was afraid she'd vanish if I didn't anchor her there.
And for a second—
I was gone.
Completely intoxicated.
Not from alcohol.
From her.
But then—
I felt it.
Her body.
Too light.
Too fragile.
My hand stilled.
Then retracted like I'd been burned.
My chest tightened violently, something cold and sharp cutting through the haze.
"…Selin."
I looked at her properly.
Not the way I had been—blinded by want, by need, by everything I'd been trying not to feel.
I looked.
And God—
She was thinner.
Not just a little.
Not something you miss if you're paying attention.
This was… wrong.
This was scary.
My voice came out rough. "What's happening to you?"
She didn't answer right away.
Just stood there, eyes on mine, like she'd been waiting for this exact moment.
Like she knew I wouldn't be able to ignore it anymore.
"I stopped," she said quietly.
My stomach dropped. "Stopped what?"
"My meds."
The world tilted.
"What?"
"I stopped taking most of them," she repeated, her voice steady in a way that terrified me. "The chemo. The intensive treatment. Everything that would… make it harder."
My brain struggled to catch up.
Harder for what?
And then—
It hit.
"…Selin."
Her lips trembled, just slightly.
"For the baby," she whispered.
Something inside me snapped.
"You did what?"
"I wanted a chance," she said, tears finally spilling over. "Just one. Before it's too late."
I shook my head, stepping back like distance might make this make sense. "No. No, you don't get to just say that like it's normal—like it's okay—"
"It's not okay!" she cried. "None of this is okay!"
Silence crashed between us.
My chest rose too fast. My hands shook.
"…What stage?" I asked, my voice barely there.
She hesitated.
And that hesitation?
It destroyed me more than anything else.
"Selin."
Her eyes dropped.
"…Second."
The word echoed.
Second.
Not early.
Not manageable.
Not something you ignore.
Something that spreads.
Something that takes.
Something that—
"No," I whispered, like I could undo it. "No, no, no—why didn't you tell me?"
She laughed weakly, broken. "When? Between the schedules? Between you reminding me it's an 'odd day'?"
That hit.
Hard.
"I thought I could fix it," she continued, voice shaking. "I thought if I just—if I just had a child—if I left something behind—then maybe it wouldn't feel like I'm disappearing."
My chest caved in.
"You think I need a child to remember you?" I said, my voice cracking for the first time. "You think that's what you are to me?"
"I didn't want you to be alone," she whispered.
"I already am," I shot back. "Do you not see that? You've been standing right in front of me and I still didn't know I was losing you."
Tears blurred my vision.
"I didn't know," I said again, quieter this time. "I didn't know, Selin…"
She stepped closer.
Careful. Hesitant.
Like she wasn't sure I'd let her.
"I didn't want you to look at me like this," she said softly.
"Like what?"
"Like I'm already gone."
My breath broke.
Because that's exactly how it felt.
Like I was too late.
Like I'd spent all this time pretending this wasn't real—
and now reality was standing right in front of me, asking me what I was going to do about it.
I reached for her again.
Slower this time.
Gentler.
Like I was holding something that could shatter in my hands.
"You're not gone," I said, my voice rough but certain. "Do you hear me? You're not gone."
Her eyes searched mine.
"And I'm not letting you do this alone," I added.
Because whatever this was—
contract, friendship, love, fear—
none of it mattered anymore.
The only thing that did?
She was running out of time.
And I had wasted enough of it already.
Selin
The words left my mouth—
And everything inside me collapsed.
I didn't realize how heavy it was until it was out.
"I stopped," I whispered again, like repeating it would make it less real. "I stopped everything."
My legs gave out before I could stop them.
I sank to the floor.
Not gracefully.
Not dramatically.
Just… dropped.
Like my body couldn't hold the weight of what I'd been carrying anymore.
"Alekos…" my voice broke, completely this time. "I just— I wanted one thing."
The tears came fast now. Uncontrolled. Messy. I didn't even try to wipe them.
"I wanted to be a mother," I choked out. "Just once. Just one chance to do something right before—"
I couldn't finish it.
Before I die.
It sat there anyway.
Between us.
Loud.
I covered my face, shoulders shaking. "The doctors said… if it's going to happen, it has to be now."
Silence.
Thick. Suffocating.
"Because after this…" I swallowed hard. "The next nine months—if I even make it through them—it's going to be hell."
My voice dropped to a whisper.
"They said my body won't hold up the same way anymore. The chemo already… did its damage."
I laughed weakly through tears. "So ironic, right? The thing that's supposed to save me is also taking this away from me."
I looked up at him then.
Really looked.
And for the first time, I didn't hide.
Didn't pretend.
Didn't soften it with humor.
"I need you to promise me something."
His face was pale. Shattered.
"Selin…" his voice was barely there.
"Please," I begged, crawling just a little closer, hands trembling as they reached for his shirt. "Just this one thing. Don't say no before you hear me."
He didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
I held onto him like he was the only solid thing left in my world.
"I need you to try," I whispered. "Not for the contract. Not because your mom said so. Not because it's an 'odd day.'"
My voice cracked completely.
"But because this might be my only chance."
Tears blurred everything.
"I don't want to disappear without leaving something behind," I said. "Something that's you. Something that's us."
My grip on his shirt tightened.
"Promise me you won't treat this like a duty," I pleaded. "Promise me you won't drink. Promise me you'll be here. With me."
My voice dropped, softer now. Broken.
"Just this once… love me through it."
Silence filled the room.
Heavy.
Waiting.
Because this wasn't about a deal anymore.
This wasn't about a plan.
This was about a girl running out of time—
Asking the only boy she ever loved…
not to let her face it alone.
Alekos
For a second—
I couldn't hear anything.
Not her voice. Not my own breathing. Not the world.
Just one sentence echoing in my skull like a gunshot:
"The next nine months… it's going to be hell."
I looked at her on the floor.
Crying.
Begging.
Begging me.
And something inside me—
shattered.
"Are you out of your mind?" My voice came out sharp. Too sharp. "You stopped chemo? You just—what—decided to gamble your life like it's nothing?!"
She flinched.
But didn't back away.
"It's not nothing," she whispered. "It's everything to me."
"That's not how this works!" I ran a hand through my hair, pacing like I was trying to outrun the reality in front of me. "You don't get to choose a baby over your life!"
"And you don't get to choose for me!" she shot back, her voice breaking.
Silence slammed into us.
I stopped moving.
Looked at her again.
Really looked.
On the floor.
Fragile.
Still trying to be strong.
Still trying to explain herself to me.
God.
"I'm not choosing a baby over my life," she said, quieter now. "I'm choosing the only thing I've ever wanted before I lose everything else."
That hit deeper than anything.
My chest tightened so hard it hurt.
"You think I care about that?" I said, my voice cracking now. "You think I need a child to remember you?"
"I don't want you to remember me," she whispered. "I want you to have something that lives."
I shook my head, stepping closer, dropping to my knees in front of her.
"I want you." I said, my voice breaking open completely now. "Do you understand that? Not a memory. Not a child. Not something to replace you when you're gone."
Her eyes filled again.
"I don't want to replace me either," she said softly. "But I don't get that choice anymore."
That was it.
That was the moment.
The moment I realized—
She wasn't fighting this like I was.
She had already accepted it.
And I was the one still in denial.
I let out a breath that felt like it tore through my lungs.
My hands came up to her face.
Careful.
Shaking.
"You don't get to do this alone," I said. "Not anymore."
Her lips trembled. "Alekos…"
"I'm angry," I admitted. "I'm furious. At you. At myself. At every second I didn't notice. At every time I treated this like it was just… something to get through."
My forehead dropped against hers.
"But I'm more terrified than anything else."
My voice broke.
"I thought I had time."
She closed her eyes.
"I know."
Silence.
Soft.
Devastating.
Then I pulled back just enough to look at her.
"If I promise you this," I said slowly, "it's not going to be because it's a deal."
Her breath hitched.
"It's not going to be because it's an 'odd day.'"
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"It's going to be because I choose you," I said. "Every second of it. Even if it scares the hell out of me."
Her hand gripped mine tighter.
"And you don't get to push me away when it gets hard," I added. "You don't get to disappear into this and leave me behind."
"I won't," she whispered.
I nodded once.
Slow.
Heavy.
"…Then I promise."
The word settled between us like something sacred.
Not light.
Not easy.
But real.
Her shoulders dropped.
Like she'd been holding that breath for weeks.
Months.
And finally—
She let it go.
Selin
For the first time in a long time—
I felt… still.
Not okay.
Not safe.
But… not alone.
His promise wrapped around me like something fragile and strong at the same time.
I didn't say anything else.
Didn't need to.
Because if I stayed—
I'd break again.
And I didn't think I had it in me to fall apart twice in one night.
So I slowly pulled my hands away.
His grip lingered for a second.
Then let go.
I pushed myself up from the floor, my body heavier than it should've been.
Every step felt like I was carrying something invisible.
Hope.
Fear.
Both.
I walked toward the door.
Stopped for just a second.
Without turning back, I whispered—
"Thank you."
My voice was barely there.
Then I stepped out.
The hallway was quiet.
Too quiet.
I made it to my room.
Closed the door behind me.
And leaned against it, my eyes closing as my body finally gave in.
Not to sleep.
Not yet.
Just… exhaustion.
The kind that seeps into your bones.
I walked to my bed and sat down slowly.
Then laid back, staring at the ceiling.
Everything replayed.
His anger.
His voice breaking.
His promise.
My hand moved to my stomach without thinking.
A small, fragile motion.
Like I was already protecting something that didn't exist yet.
My throat tightened.
"Please," I whispered into the silence.
I didn't know who I was talking to.
God.
Fate.
My own body.
"Just give me this one thing."
The room stayed quiet.
But for the first time—
It didn't feel empty.