Chapter 1: The Waiting Room
The waiting room of the hospital held a type of silence that
was not peaceful—it was filled with fear, uncertainty, and resignation. Aryan
had grown accustomed to that silence. He was 24 now and his life had become a
routine of IVs, white walls, and a faint disinfectant smell. Cancer had held
his body hostage, but not his spirit. He still smiled at nurses, still read his
favorite poetry, and still hoped.
Then one afternoon, hope arrived in the form of a yellow
scarf.
Her name was Mira.
She was 22, her eyes storm clouds before the rain, and her
laugh—oh, her laugh—something that didn't belong in a cancer ward. She sat
opposite Aryan, leafing through a magazine not reading it.
They didn't speak on the first day.
Or the second.
But on the third, she sneezed during chemo, and Aryan
laughed.
“That was aggressive,” he said.
She looked up, startled, and then smiled. “I like to make an
entrance.”
It began with small talks. Weather. Favorite colors. The
food they missed. But within a week, they were exchanging books, playlists, and
glances that lingered a little too long.
Chapter 2: Stars and Stories
Mira adored the stars. She explained to Aryan that she had a
dream—to see a meteor shower from the top of a hill, under a blanket, hand in
hand with someone special.
"But I've been ill for so long, I wonder if I'll ever
have that night," she breathed once.
"You will," said Aryan. "I promise."
As weeks went by, they became inseparable. Nurses teased
that they were the Romeo and Juliet of the hospital, but with IV poles rather
than swords. They sat beside each other during treatment, reading books aloud,
laughing at their bald heads, and holding hands when pain was unbearable.
They both understood their odds were against them. Mira was
diagnosed with stage 4 lymphoma; Aryan's leukemia had come back. Love doesn't
inquire about timelines, though—it just is.
Chapter 3: Rain and Realizations
On a rainy afternoon, Mira went into a fever and was taken
to ICU. Aryan waited outside the ward for hours, drenched and praying.
When she came back, frail but smiling, she mouthed,
"Did you wait the entire time?"
He nodded. "I feared I'd lose you."
Mira gazed at him with tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Aryan… if we have to leave first, I wish it is me. I wouldn't be able to
survive without you."
He refused, tightening his grip on her hand. "Then let
us ensure we remain a bit longer—for one another."
It was on this day that Aryan penned a letter. Not a
farewell, but a vow.
"If we never have that meteor shower, Mira, understand
that you've already illuminated my sky."
Chapter 4: The Plan
It was one day when Mira was sitting silently, looking out
the window. Aryan entered with a sly smile.
"We're escaping," he announced.
She blinked. "What?"
"I asked the doctor. He said it was all right for us to
go for a night. Just one. Tomorrow there is a meteor shower. I discovered a
cottage an hour's drive away. By the hills."
Mira's face brightened like dawn.
"But what if something happens?" she breathed.
"Then it happens. But we'll be under the stars.
Together."
The waiting room of the hospital held a type of silence that was not peaceful—it was filled with fear, uncertainty, and resignation. Aryan had grown accustomed to that silence. He was 24 now and his life had become a routine of IVs, white walls, and a faint disinfectant smell. Cancer had held his body hostage, but not his spirit. He still smiled at nurses, still read his favorite poetry, and still hoped.
Then one afternoon, hope arrived in the form of a yellow scarf.
Her name was Mira.
She was 22, her eyes storm clouds before the rain, and her laugh—oh, her laugh—something that didn't belong in a cancer ward. She sat opposite Aryan, leafing through a magazine not reading it.
They didn't speak on the first day.
Or the second.
But on the third, she sneezed during chemo, and Aryan laughed.
“That was aggressive,” he said.
She looked up, startled, and then smiled. “I like to make an entrance.”
It began with small talks. Weather. Favorite colors. The
food they missed. But within a week, they were exchanging books, playlists, and
glances that lingered a little too long.
Chapter 2: Stars and Stories
Mira adored the stars. She explained to Aryan that she had a dream—to see a meteor shower from the top of a hill, under a blanket, hand in hand with someone special.
"But I've been ill for so long, I wonder if I'll ever have that night," she breathed once.
"You will," said Aryan. "I promise."
As weeks went by, they became inseparable. Nurses teased that they were the Romeo and Juliet of the hospital, but with IV poles rather than swords. They sat beside each other during treatment, reading books aloud, laughing at their bald heads, and holding hands when pain was unbearable.
They both understood their odds were against them. Mira was
diagnosed with stage 4 lymphoma; Aryan's leukemia had come back. Love doesn't
inquire about timelines, though—it just is.
Chapter 3: Rain and Realizations
On a rainy afternoon, Mira went into a fever and was taken to ICU. Aryan waited outside the ward for hours, drenched and praying.
When she came back, frail but smiling, she mouthed, "Did you wait the entire time?"
He nodded. "I feared I'd lose you."
Mira gazed at him with tears streaming down her cheeks. "Aryan… if we have to leave first, I wish it is me. I wouldn't be able to survive without you."
He refused, tightening his grip on her hand. "Then let us ensure we remain a bit longer—for one another."
It was on this day that Aryan penned a letter. Not a farewell, but a vow.
"If we never have that meteor shower, Mira, understand
that you've already illuminated my sky."
Chapter 4: The Plan
It was one day when Mira was sitting silently, looking out the window. Aryan entered with a sly smile.
"We're escaping," he announced.
She blinked. "What?"
"I asked the doctor. He said it was all right for us to
go for a night. Just one. Tomorrow there is a meteor shower. I discovered a
cottage an hour's drive away. By the hills."
Mira's face brightened like dawn.
"But what if something happens?" she breathed.
"Then it happens. But we'll be under the stars.
Together."
Chapter 5: Stars in the Rain
They came just as the sun set. The cottage was
old-fashioned, but it was warm, the air had a piney fragrance to it, and the
sky already had a violet hue.
Covered with two blankets, they sat on a bench outside.
Mira's head leaned against Aryan's shoulder. He read her poetry of stars, love,
and ephemeral moments.
And then, when the sky grew dark, the stars started falling.
One by one, like golden tears on the sky.
"I never thought I'd get this," Mira said softly.
"You deserve so much more," Aryan replied.
"I just wanted someone to see the stars with. And I got
you."
The wind blew, and Mira shivered. Aryan held her closer. She
smiled, closed her eyes, and said something he barely caught.
"I love you, Aryan. Don't be sad if I fall like these
stars. Just remember me when it rains."
Her hand gradually slid from his.
Chapter 6: A Sky Without Her
Aryan remained motionless for minutes, hours—it seemed like
an eternity.
Mira was gone.
He cradled her while the rain started falling, drenching
them both. The stars continued to fall, unfeeling of human suffering.
He kissed her forehead and breathed softly, "You didn't
fall. You became the sky."
Chapter 7: Letters and Light
Back at the hospital, Aryan did not accept treatment. He
remained in Mira's old room, vacant, reading the letters that she left behind.
She wrote one a day since the time they met.
"If you're reading this, I'm probably watching you from
above—annoying the angels, making them laugh."
"You were my miracle, Aryan. Even if we met to say
goodbye, I'm glad I met you."
One letter was unlike the others. It was not for reading. It
consisted of five words:
"Open this under the stars."
Chapter 8: One Year Later
Aryan had defied expectations. The doctors referred to it as
a miracle. He referred to it as her promise.
On the first anniversary of Mira's death, he went back to
the cottage. The same bench. The same sky.
He opened the last letter.
"Look up. If it's raining, that's me, reaching for you.
If it's clear, it means I'm at peace. And if you see a star fall, make a
wish—for us."
The sky flashed again. A solitary meteor, slicing through
darkness.
He shut his eyes.
"I wish we meet again."
The wind rustled through trees.
And in silence, it seemed she replied.
***** THE END *****
Chapter 6: A Sky Without Her
Aryan remained motionless for minutes, hours—it seemed like an eternity.
Mira was gone.
He cradled her while the rain started falling, drenching them both. The stars continued to fall, unfeeling of human suffering.
He kissed her forehead and breathed softly, "You didn't
fall. You became the sky."
Chapter 7: Letters and Light
Back at the hospital, Aryan did not accept treatment. He remained in Mira's old room, vacant, reading the letters that she left behind.
She wrote one a day since the time they met.
"If you're reading this, I'm probably watching you from above—annoying the angels, making them laugh."
"You were my miracle, Aryan. Even if we met to say goodbye, I'm glad I met you."
One letter was unlike the others. It was not for reading. It
consisted of five words:
"Open this under the stars."
Chapter 8: One Year Later
Aryan had defied expectations. The doctors referred to it as a miracle. He referred to it as her promise.
On the first anniversary of Mira's death, he went back to the cottage. The same bench. The same sky.
He opened the last letter.
"Look up. If it's raining, that's me, reaching for you. If it's clear, it means I'm at peace. And if you see a star fall, make a wish—for us."
The sky flashed again. A solitary meteor, slicing through darkness.
He shut his eyes.
"I wish we meet again."
The wind rustled through trees.
And in silence, it seemed she replied.
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