She squeezed his hand tightly, tears welling in her eyes. "I feel the exact same way, Liam. I never thought something like this could happen—like we were meant to find each other."
From that moment on, they were inseparable. Liam would surprise her with mixtapes of his favorite bands, and she'd bring him homemade cookies to the small music studio where he practiced. He'd write songs about her, his voice filling the room with lyrics that spoke of finding home in someone's heart. Every touch, every laugh, every quiet moment together felt like a gift they never wanted to take for granted.
But sometimes, Liam would pause mid-sentence, pressing a hand to his chest with a pained look that he'd quickly hide with a smile. "Just a little heartburn," he'd say, waving off her concern. She'd worry, but he'd always distract her with a joke or by pulling her close to dance with him in the middle of her living room.
One rainy night, they were planning a trip to the beach—the very one she'd dreamed of walking with him. Liam was sketching their itinerary in his notebook when he suddenly dropped his pen, his face paling as he clutched his chest. This time, the pain was too sharp to hide.
"Liam!" she cried out, rushing to his side as he struggled to breathe. "We need to get you to a hospital—now!"
At the emergency room, the doctor's words hit her like a punch to the gut. Liam had been born with a severe heart condition, one that had been managed for years but was now progressing rapidly. He'd known about it his whole life, but he'd kept it from her—afraid she'd pull away if she knew how little time he might have.
"I didn't want to scare you away," he whispered later, his voice weak as he lay in the hospital bed. "I wanted to have at least one real love story… even if it couldn't last forever."
She held his hand, her tears falling onto their intertwined fingers. "You didn't have to hide it from me. I love you—all of you. Nothing could change that."
Over the next few months, they made every moment count. They danced in hospital rooms, had picnics by his bed, and finally made it to that beach—where he asked her to be his girlfriend, even if he knew their time together was limited. He told her that meeting her had made his life complete, that the dreams had been a sign they were meant to share whatever time they could.
On a quiet morning, with the sun streaming through the window and her head resting on his chest, she felt his heartbeat slow. He looked up at her with those warm chocolate eyes, a peaceful smile on his lips.
"I'll see you in our dreams," he said softly, before his hand went still in hers.
Though he was gone, she knew their story wasn't really over. Every night, she still sees him in her sleep—same spiky blonde hair, same silver rings, same bright smile. And he always says the same thing: "I've been waiting for you. I'll always be waiting for you."
Would you like me to write an epilogue for the story, or adjust any part of the ending to match what you had in mind?