The next morning, Claire woke up with a dull ache in her chest, and a wave of nausea hit her as soon as she sat up. She tried to shake it off, but the dizziness and weakness were unmistakable. She gripped the edge of the bed, taking deep breaths, hoping the feeling would pass. But it didn’t.

She stood slowly, her legs unsteady beneath her, and made her way to the bathroom. The mirror reflected her pale face, the bags under her eyes, and the weariness that had settled deep within her bones. She splashed cold water on her face, trying to wake herself up, but the tightness in her chest wouldn’t go away.

When she made her way downstairs, her father was sitting at the kitchen table, looking over some papers. He looked up when he heard her footsteps, his expression softening with concern.

"Claire," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "You’re not looking well. How are you feeling?"

Claire forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "I’m fine, Dad. Just a little tired, that’s all."

Claire forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "I’m fine, Dad. Just a little tired, that’s all."

Her father wasn’t convinced. He stood up and walked over to her, his eyes scanning her face with a deep concern. "You don’t look fine. Are you taking your medicine?" he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Claire gently held his hand, her grip weak. "Dad, stop worrying. There’s no use in the medicines. Eventually, I’m going to die, so—" Her voice cracked, and she quickly turned her face away, not wanting him to see the tears welling up in her eyes.

Her father’s heart ached at her words, but he didn’t say anything. He just pulled her into a tight hug, his hand stroking her back as if trying to reassure both of them. "Please, Claire, don’t say that. We’re not giving up. You’re my little girl, and we’re going to fight this together. You have to keep fighting."

Claire closed her eyes, letting herself sink into his embrace, but deep down, she knew the truth. The truth she couldn’t share with him. Her time was running out.

Her mother entered the room then, her eyes soft with worry. "Don’t go to college today, love," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "You need to rest. I’ll talk to your professor, don’t worry."

Claire nodded, not arguing, too tired to put up a fight. She knew her parents only wanted what was best for her, but she also knew there was no escaping what was coming.

Later that evening, they drove to Dr. Laura Hayes’ clinic. The familiar smell of antiseptic and the soft murmur of voices in the waiting room made Claire feel even more isolated. She tried to focus on the calming atmosphere, but her mind kept drifting back to the reality of her situation.

When Dr. Hayes finally called her in, Claire followed her parents into the examination room. Dr. Hayes, a kind woman with a warm smile, looked at Claire with the same compassion she always had.

"Claire, my love," she said softly, taking Claire’s hand in hers. "Are you taking your medicines as I instructed?"

Claire hesitated, her gaze falling to the floor. "I... I don’t think it’s going to help, Dr. Hayes. It’s just... it’s just delaying the inevitable."

Dr. Hayes sighed deeply, her eyes full of empathy. "Please, Claire. You have to take them. We all want you to fight, to hold on as long as you can. I know it’s hard, but we need you to try."

Claire closed her eyes, feeling the weight of her words. "As if I will," she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible.

Dr. Hayes gave a small, sad smile, then turned to her parents. "I’m afraid I have some news," she said, her tone shifting to something more serious. "I’m going out of town for a few months."

Her parents exchanged a worried glance, their faces filled with concern. "Then who will be checking on Claire?" her father asked, his voice tight with worry.

Dr. Hayes looked at them with a reassuring smile. "I’m referring you to one of the top cardiothoracic surgeons. You can go to him, don’t worry. He’s the best, and I trust him completely. You’ll be in good hands. Please, trust me on this."

Claire’s heart sank, but she nodded, knowing that she had no other choice. Her parents needed to believe that there was hope, even if she didn’t.

Her mother squeezed her hand gently. "We’ll do whatever it takes, sweetheart. We’ll get through this, together."

But as Claire sat there, hearing the words of reassurance, she couldn’t shake the feeling that time was slipping away faster than she could hold on.

Later that day, Claire was in her room, lost in one of her favorite hobbies—painting. The strokes of the brush moved across the canvas as her mind wandered, trying to escape the harsh reality of her condition. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t hear the door open and close, nor did she notice the soft footsteps approaching.

When she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, she turned around, startled. There stood Sophie and Mia, holding two plastic bags, their faces soft with concern.

"When did you guys come?" Claire asked, her voice thick with surprise.

Sophie smiled faintly, though her eyes were filled with emotion. "Just now," she replied, her voice gentle. "We wanted to check on you. How are you feeling?"

Claire forced a smile, but it was strained, and she couldn’t hide the pain in her eyes. "I’m fine," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "Just painting... trying to forget for a moment."

Mia, ever the supportive friend, stepped closer and placed a hand on Claire’s arm. "You don’t have to pretend with us, Claire," she said softly. "We’re here for you, always."

Claire’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she shook her head. "I’m sorry... I don’t want to burden you guys with my problems. I just... I don’t want to be a reminder of how short life can be. I don’t want to make you feel sad every time you see me." Her voice quivered, and the words felt like a weight on her chest.

Sophie stepped forward, her eyes filled with compassion and warmth. "Claire, don’t ever think that," she said firmly, her voice breaking. "You are not a burden. You are our friend, our sister. We love you, and we will stand by you no matter what."

Mia nodded, her eyes glistening with tears she was trying so hard to hold back. "You’re the strongest person I know, Claire. And it doesn’t matter how much time we have, we will cherish every single moment with you. You don’t have to face this alone. We’re in this together."

Claire's heart clenched as she looked at her two best friends, the ones who had been with her through everything. She tried to hold back the tears, but they came anyway, slipping down her cheeks. "I don’t know what I’d do without you two," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "You’ve always been there for me, and I’m so sorry that I can’t give you more time."

Sophie and Mia embraced her tightly, their own tears falling freely now. "You don’t have to apologize," Sophie whispered into her hair. "We are so lucky to have you in our lives. And no matter what happens, we will keep you in our hearts forever."

Mia added softly, "You’ve already given us more than we could ever ask for. Your friendship, your strength, your love... that’s all we need from you."

Claire closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of their love surround her.

Unbeknownst to the three friends, Claire’s parents stood quietly by the door, having paused when they heard the conversation. Her mother, a tissue clutched tightly in her hand, wiped away the tears streaming down her face. Her father, usually stoic, had his arms crossed, his jaw clenched as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

“They love her so much,” her mother whispered, her voice trembling with both sadness and gratitude. “She’s so lucky to have them.”

Her father nodded, his eyes fixed on Claire as she leaned into her friends’ embrace. “And they’re lucky to have her,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s stronger than I ever gave her credit for.”

Her mother turned to him, her eyes glistening. “It’s not fair,” she murmured, the pain evident in her voice. “She’s so young. She deserves more time… so much more.”

He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, though his own heart was breaking. “I know,” he said, his voice cracking. “But at least she’s surrounded by love. That’s what matters most right now.”

Inside the room, Sophie pulled back slightly, brushing a tear from Claire’s cheek. “Okay, enough crying,” she said with a forced smile, trying to lighten the mood. “We didn’t come here to turn this into a sob fest. We brought snacks and your favorite chocolate cake. Let’s have a mini party, just the three of us.”

Mia nodded enthusiastically, pulling out the cake from one of the bags. “And we’re not taking no for an answer,” she added, her tone playful but firm.

Claire let out a soft laugh, the sound fragile but genuine. “You two are impossible,” she said, shaking her head.

Her parents exchanged a glance, a bittersweet smile shared between them. Watching Claire laugh, even for a moment, was a gift they cherished. They quietly stepped away, leaving the girls to their moment, their hearts heavy yet grateful for the love surrounding their daughter.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Claire’s father placed an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “She’s got them, and she’s got us,” he said softly. “We’ll get through this together.”

Her mother nodded, leaning into him. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice filled with determination. “Together.”