The first thing Willian felt was the weight of Ann's head resting softly on his shoulder.
The dull beeping of hospital machines hummed in the background, but inside this small cocoon of white sheets and warm bodies, everything felt still. Safe.
He blinked, adjusting to the early morning light filtering through the half-drawn blinds. Ann stirred beside him, her body curled slightly toward the window, her fingers wrapped around a pen.
She was writing.
He smiled — not just at the sight, but at the fact that for the first time in weeks, she looked... joyful.
"What are you scribbling over there, dream girl?" he asked, voice hoarse with sleep.
Ann turned, startled for a moment, but then that smile bloomed across her face — the one that always made his chest ache.
"You're awake."
"Barely," he muttered, stretching. "But now I'm curious."
She bit her lower lip, suddenly shy. "It's silly."
"I like silly," he said, shifting so he could see the notebook. "Let me in."
After a moment's hesitation, she passed it to him.
At the top of the page, in neat, hopeful script, she had written:
Ann's Bucket List
Things I want to do before the world forgets my name.
Willian blinked hard and read each line.
Skydive
Sing karaoke in public
A romantic dinner at a 5-star hotel
Swim with dolphins
Dance in the rain with my love
Confront my parents
Travel the world
He looked up slowly, meeting her eyes. "You still want all this?"
"I don't know," she said, her voice soft. "Maybe it's just me trying to hold on to something. I know not everything on that list will happen, but... it feels good to dream again."
Willian took a deep breath and reached for her hand. "Ann, I don't care how impossible it looks. If it matters to you, it matters to me. So... yes. You'll do every single thing on this list."
She chuckled. "Oh yeah? You're going to take me skydiving from my hospital bed?"
"I'll build a parachute out of hospital gowns if I have to."
She laughed, then paused, her eyes glistening. "You're serious."
"I've never been more serious," he said, gently squeezing her hand. "I can't fix the past. But I can give you beautiful moments. Starting tonight."
Her brows rose. "Tonight?"
"No questions. Just promise you'll be ready by six."
"Willian..."
He kissed her temple. "Trust me."
That afternoon, after much sweet-talking to Dr. Reyes and an official "just-one-night" release form, Willian left the hospital with a mission.
He booked a table at The Grand Aurum, the most luxurious hotel restaurant in the city — the kind that people saved up for months to dine at once. Then he stopped by a boutique and chose a dress he could already see wrapped around Ann's frame: midnight-blue silk with thin straps and a flowing train, like moonlight sewn into fabric.
He picked out a matching necklace — delicate, with a single sapphire that reminded him of her eyes when she cried, when she laughed, when she whispered she was afraid to die.
By 5:45 p.m., he was back at the hospital, suit pressed, shoes shined, heart pounding.
Ann stood in front of the mirror, her fingers trembling slightly as she clasped the necklace he'd given her. She hadn't worn anything like this in so long. The dress hugged her softly, complimenting the curves that had returned slowly after weeks of chemo. Her hair was pinned loosely at the back, a few curls falling free.
When she stepped out, Willian's breath caught in his throat.
"Ann..." he whispered. "You look like everything I ever prayed for."
Her lips parted, but no words came. Just a soft smile, and then her arms around his neck.
"You're unreal," she whispered.
He pulled her close. "And you're still my favorite miracle."
The Grand Aurum glowed like a jewel in the night. Candlelight flickered on every table, a string quartet played somewhere near the back, and the aroma of fine spices and roasted delicacies wafted gently through the air.
Ann walked in on Willian's arm, stunned by the elegance. "This is... beyond romantic."
"You deserve the stars," he whispered, pulling out her chair. "But I'll start with the best restaurant in the city."
Their table sat near a window overlooking the glittering skyline. Everything sparkled — the silverware, the wine glasses, the way Ann's eyes reflected the golden chandelier above them.
When the waiter approached with the menu, Ann glanced at Willian, laughing softly. "I don't even know how to pronounce half these dishes."
"Then we'll pick based on the number of syllables. The fancier it sounds, the tastier it must be."
They laughed, and with each course that followed — roasted duck with citrus glaze, truffle risotto, and a vanilla bean mousse — Ann's joy blossomed.
Willian kept her smiling with little teases.
"So... karaoke or skydiving tomorrow?" he asked, pouring her another glass of sparkling grape juice.
"Karaoke," she said. "But only if you sing with me."
"Oh, I plan to. You haven't lived until you've heard my legendary off-key rendition of Whitney Houston."
She burst into laughter. "That I need to hear."
They laughed so much, even the couple at the next table smiled at them.
Later, when dessert arrived — a small cake shaped like a swan, drizzled with chocolate — Willian leaned forward and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
"You're glowing."
"Probably from all the butter in this food."
"No," he said, voice low. "It's happiness. And it looks good on you."
She looked down, blinking rapidly. "I didn't think I'd ever feel this again. This... alive."
He reached for her hand. "That's because you're still here. Still dreaming. And Ann?"
"Yes?"
"You're going to do all of it. Maybe not all tomorrow. But every item on that list — we'll make it happen."
Tears slid silently down her cheeks. "You're too good to be true."
He wiped them with his thumb. "Then don't wake up."
---
They left the restaurant just as a light drizzle began to fall.
Ann looked up at the sky, laughing softly. "It's raining."
Willian pulled out his phone, tapped play on a quiet love song, and held out his hand.
"Then let's dance."
She stared at him in disbelief.
"In the rain?"
"Don't tell me you're crossing that one off the list without me."
And so, under the streetlights, soaked and laughing, they danced.
The world melted around them — no pain, no illness, no hospital walls. Just the sound of their breath, the warmth of their touch, the hope that maybe, just maybe, they still had time.
Back in her hospital bed, Ann rested her head on his chest as he stroked her hair gently.
"I don't want this night to end," she murmured.
He kissed her forehead. "Then let's keep writing more."
Ann looked up at him, eyes glossy. "You mean that?"
"Every dream. Every dance. Every moment. As long as you're breathing, I'll be by your side."
And for the first time in a long, long time... Ann cried not from fear, but from joy.
[To be continued...]