Doomed. The Virus of Love

“You have to tell her. Maybe there are chances.” “No, not that way! There’s always a chance.”

— Don’t mess with me, — grumbled my friend and, covering his face with his hands, whispered: — Six months, at most.

— Do you love her? — I asked, and when he nodded, I continued calmly: — Take her on vacation, make a proposal, surround her with care and love. You’ll manage…

— She’s doomed! — the friend snapped and, sighing, muttered: — For half a year he courted her. He ran after her like a dog… Flowers, candies, movies, restaurants, exhibitions…

— So you’re grieving over lost time?

Despite the difficulties, I considered myself happy and was sure I was living my best life. A beloved man, work, friends… A terrible diagnosis destroyed everything! I was fired, my fiancé left without even explaining, and my friend turned out to be a jealous traitor. What next?

Every day I’ll live as if it’s my last. To hell with treatment and pitying looks! Nobody will know why I lost my mind!

While enjoying my last days, I met HIM. “For the rest of your life” is a stretchable concept—and in my case, it’s fleeting.