Terminal Illness Countdown Novels & Stories

He would have become a very successful man without much effort. It was a pity that we were just victims of luck. It was a pity that both of us were acquaintances, a woman named Michelle Mary. The landscape of the small town, he, Pinot Santi. I looked at the icy, cold Rio in front of me, and said painfully, “At least you're still here, José. You still have the capacity to love and I... Are you terminally ill? There are only a few more weeks to live, maybe I could die tomorrow. I don't have a future. I have nothing left.”

"I ordered your favorite soft pink wedding dress. After surgery, the designer will take your measurements. At our wedding, you'll be the most beautiful bride." I smiled and touched his face. This was my farewell. Tears streamed down my face, and a silent thought echoed. "Ethan, there won't be a wedding for us." As the doors to the operating theater closed, I kept my gaze fixed on the three people I loved most; I wanted to commit their faces to memory. Once these doors closed, I knew I would never see them again. As anesthesia dulled my senses, the world around me faded away. My death was declared at precisely 10:00 pm, as indicated by the wall clock.

“If chemotherapy is done? Six month, at best.” A sob choked its way up my throat. I turned my face to the side, fighting to breathe, trying to hold on to something—anything—that would keep me grounded. I had cancer. I knew it was terminal but now reduced to six months left to live? Unbelievable, why was life cruel to me this much The words kept echoing in my mind, looping like a nightmare I couldn’t wake from. But he wasn’t done. I could feel it in the silence that followed. There was another weight hovering in the room.

“I also wanted to let you know—I’m sick. In case you were wondering.” I was but don’t tell him that. “I’m sorry to hear that.” “Terminal cancer,” he claims. My heart fucking sinks. “Yeah. I don’t have much time to live. I told Theo I wanted to be here. To die here. In the place where I was born. And look, we have a small adventure together before it happens.” “Grayson,” I start, unsure of what else to say. “It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything. I understand and appreciate your concern.”

They probably never would have guessed that I had brought this terminal illness upon myself. The doctor presented a series of treatment plans. For the time being, we would use medication to suppress the tumor and wait for conditions to improve before considering surgery. Against all expectations, the medication actually slowed the tumor's progression. The system had warned me that my body had to die within two years of completing the mission in order for me to return to my original world. If I missed that deadline, I'd be trapped here forever. I had less than a month to make that deadline now. In the days that followed, Jonah remained at my bedside without fail.

"Please believe me. I didn't set anyone up. I don't know where Roman went." "Oh, Reid." Maren let out a soft sigh and wiped the tears from my face. "You shouldn't have touched him. That was the one thing you should never have done." She continued nonchalantly, "They say a late-stage lung cancer patient can last about three minutes off a ventilator. You've got 60 seconds left." The countdown nearly drove me out of my mind. I begged her over and over again, slamming my forehead against the rough stone pavement until blood pooled beneath me, but Maren didn't flinch.

The countdown appeared in the corner of the screen. 14:59... 14:58... 14:57... The hunt was over. The ultimatum had begun.

"Think of it as helping someone live, really live for whatever time they have left." He gripped her hand so tightly it hurt but she didn't pull away, didn't do anything except hold on while they both cried for futures that would never exist, for dreams that had died the moment a doctor said the word terminal. Finally when the tears had slowed, when they could both breathe again without sobbing, Lucas spoke. "The race," he said, his voice hoarse. "One week from now, you still want to do it." It wasn't a question but she answered anyway. "Yes."

Behind me, the screen inside the cockpit flashed red: DISTANCE TO TERMINUS: 0 KM. TIME TO IMPACT: 47:59:59.

To make up for it, he turned back and repeated a promise. "I'll definitely go to the old house to see you tomorrow." The next day, he broke his promise anyway. I sat on the couch in the old house, looking at my phone. Twelve hours left. A local news alert popped up. Kayla had appeared at a new project launch, with Lawrence standing behind her. Thinking about the promise he had made yesterday, I let out a self-deprecating smile. If he knew these were the last 12 hours with me, would he still break his promise?