Mum and I made our way to the hospital. It was Monday morning, and the world outside seemed to be moving in slow motion. Perhaps it was just my perception, coloured by the weight of what lay ahead—my second palliative chemotherapy session.

I gazed out the window, watching as familiar buildings and streets passed by in a blur. The sky was a dull grey, matching my mood perfectly. I couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu, remembering the last time we'd made this journey. It felt like ages ago, yet somehow also like yesterday.

My thoughts drifted, as they often did these days, to Nathan. My best friend. Or was he more than that now? I wasn't sure anymore. The last time I'd seen him was Thursday night, after our 'date'—if you could even call it that. We'd gone to the drive-in cinema, a quaint relic of the past that somehow still existed in our town. It had been nice, comfortable even, just like old times. But then...

I closed my eyes, recalling the events that followed. After the film, we'd driven to the beach. It was Nathan's idea—he'd said the night was too beautiful to waste. I'd agreed, partly because I wasn't ready for the evening to end, and partly because I could never say no to those earnest hazel eyes of his.

The memory of sitting on the sand, the sound of waves crashing in the background, was still vivid in my mind. Nathan had been uncharacteristically quiet, fidgeting with the hem of his jumper. I should have known then that something was different.

"Beth," he'd said, his voice barely audible above the sound of the sea. "I need to tell you something."

I'd turned to look at him, curious and a bit apprehensive. The moonlight had cast shadows across his face, making him look older, more serious than I'd ever seen him.

"What is it?" I'd asked, my heart inexplicably racing.

He'd taken a deep breath, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made me want to look away. But I couldn't. "I love you, Beth. I think I always have."

The words had hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning and expectation. I'd felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the world. Nathan loved me? My best friend since preschool, the boy who'd seen me through my worst haircuts and most embarrassing moments, loved me?

Before I could even begin to process what he'd said, Nathan had leaned in and kissed me. His lips were soft, tentative, as if he was afraid I might break. Or run away. In hindsight, perhaps he'd been right to worry.

The kiss had lasted only a moment, but it felt like an eternity. When Nathan pulled away, his eyes searching mine for a reaction, I'd felt... nothing. No, that wasn't quite right. I'd felt overwhelmed, confused, and utterly terrified.

"Take me home," I'd whispered, unable to meet his gaze.

To his credit, Nathan hadn't questioned it. He'd simply nodded, and driven me home in silence.

I hadn't spoken to him since that night. I was a coward, I knew that. A horrible person who couldn't even face her best friend after he'd bared his soul. Nathan was supposed to come to the hospital today for my chemo session—he'd promised weeks ago that he'd be there. But given how we'd left things, I doubted he'd show up.

"Beth? Sweetheart, we're here."

Mum's voice pulled me from my reverie. I blinked, realising we'd arrived at the hospital. The stark white building loomed before us, a fortress of modern medicine that held both hope and dread within its walls.

As Mum pulled into a parking space, I steeled myself for what lay ahead. The nausea, the fatigue, the feeling of poison coursing through my veins—all in the name of buying me a little more time. I reached for the door handle, ready to step out into the chilly morning air, when something caught my eye.

Or rather, someone.

There, standing by the hospital entrance, hands shoved deep in his pockets and looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else, was Nathan.

I froze, my hand still on the door handle. What was he doing here? After everything that had happened, after the way I'd treated him, why would he come?

"Oh good, he made it," Mum said, a hint of relief in her voice. At my questioning look, she added, "Nathan and I have been texting. I thought it might be a nice surprise for you."

A nice surprise. Right. I wasn't sure if I wanted to hug my mum for her thoughtfulness or throttle her for not warning me. Instead, I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car.

Nathan looked up as we approached, his face a mixture of nervousness and determination. He looked tired, as if he hadn't slept well. Knowing Nathan, he probably hadn't.

"Hi," he said softly as we reached him. His eyes met mine briefly before darting away.

"Hi," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

An awkward silence fell over us, broken only by the sound of Mum locking the car and joining us.

"It's good to see you, Nathan," she said, giving him a warm smile. "Thank you for coming."

Nathan nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Of course, Mrs Reid. I promised I'd be here."

Another silence threatened to engulf us, but Nathan cleared his throat and spoke again. "Look, Beth, I know we left things... weird. But you asked me to be here, so I'm here. We don't have to talk about... that thing. We can talk about it later, or never, if that's what you want. I just... I want to be here for you. As your friend."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. Here I was, wallowing in my own drama, while Nathan had put aside his own feelings to support me. I felt a lump form in my throat, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

All I could manage was a nod, not trusting my voice to remain steady if I spoke.

Nathan seemed to understand, offering me a small, sad smile. "Okay then. Shall we go in?"

We made our way into the hospital, the automatic doors sliding open with a soft whoosh. The smell of disinfectant and illness assaulted my nostrils, a scent I'd become all too familiar with over the past few months. We walked to the lift, rode up to the oncology floor, and found ourselves in the waiting room.

The room was half-full, a mix of patients and their loved ones. Some looked as nervous as I felt, while others chatted quietly, seemingly at ease in this sterile environment. I wondered how many times they'd been here, how many rounds of chemo they'd endured. Would I ever reach that point of casual acceptance?

We found three empty chairs in the corner and settled in to wait. Mum immediately reached for a magazine, flipping through it without really looking at the pages. Nathan sat stiffly, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes and trying to ignore the knot of anxiety in my stomach.

The silence between us was deafening. I wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension. To thank Nathan for coming, to apologise for how I'd acted, to explain the jumble of emotions that had been coursing through me since that night on the beach. But the words wouldn't come.

Instead, I found myself thinking about the first time Nathan and I had met. It was our first day of preschool when we were around four, and I'd been terrified. Mum had just dropped me off, and I was standing in the playground, clutching my new backpack like a lifeline. That's when I'd heard a voice behind me.

"I like your shoes. They're sparkly."

I'd turned to find a boy with messy brown hair and a gap-toothed grin looking at my feet. I'd glanced down at my glittery trainers, a peace offering from Dad who'd eaten my ice cream.

"Thanks," I'd mumbled, scuffing one shoe against the ground.

"I'm Nathan," the boy had said, sticking out his hand like a tiny businessman. "Want to be friends?"

And just like that, we were inseparable. Through skinned knees and lost teeth, through crushes and heartbreaks and everything in between, Nathan had been my constant. My rock.

And now, sitting in this hospital waiting room, I realised how close I was to losing that. All because I couldn't face my own feelings.

"Elizabeth Reid?"

A nurse's voice cut through my thoughts. I opened my eyes to see a kind-faced woman in scrubs standing at the entrance to the waiting room.

"That's me," I said, my voice sounding small and far away.

"We're ready for you now," the nurse said with a gentle smile. "Your mum and friend can come too, if you'd like."

I nodded, standing up on shaky legs. Mum was instantly at my side, her hand on my back, a comforting presence. I turned to Nathan, who was hanging back, uncertainty written all over his face.

"Will you come?" I asked, hating how vulnerable I sounded.

Relief flooded his features. "Of course," he said, moving to stand on my other side.

As we followed the nurse down the hallway, I felt a sudden surge of gratitude. Despite everything, despite my cowardice and confusion, I wasn't alone. I had my mum, steadfast and loving. And I had Nathan, loyal to a fault, putting his own hurt aside to be here for me.

I didn't know what the future held. I didn't know if I'd beat this disease, or if I'd ever sort out my feelings for Nathan. But in that moment, walking towards another round of chemotherapy with my two favourite people in the world by my side, I felt a glimmer of something I hadn't felt in a long time.

Hope.

The nurse led us into a small room, filled with the beeping of machines and the sharp smell of antiseptic. A reclining chair sat in the centre, surrounded by various medical equipment. This was where I'd spend the next few hours, poison dripping into my veins in the name of healing.

"Make yourself comfortable," the nurse said, gesturing to the chair. "The doctor will be in shortly to start the treatment."

I settled into the chair, trying to ignore the way my heart was racing. Mum took a seat next to me, immediately reaching for my hand. Nathan hesitated for a moment before sitting on my other side.

As we waited for the doctor, I found myself studying Nathan's profile. He was staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched tight. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the worry lines creasing his forehead. This couldn't be easy for him either, I realised. Watching your best friend go through something like this, all while dealing with unrequited feelings.

I squeezed my eyes shut, overwhelmed by a wave of guilt. Here he was, showing up for me despite everything, and I couldn't even find the courage to talk to him properly.

"Nathan," I said softly, causing him to turn towards me. "I'm sorry."

His eyes widened in surprise. "For what?"

"For... everything. For not talking to you after Thursday night. For making things weird. For—"

"Beth," he interrupted, his voice gentle. "You don't have to apologise. I'm the one who dumped all that on you out of nowhere. If anyone should be sorry, it's me."

I shook my head, frustrated with myself. "No, you don't understand. I'm not sorry you told me. I'm sorry I couldn't... I couldn't..."

The words stuck in my throat. I couldn't what? Reciprocate? But was that true? The memory of his kiss flashed through my mind, and I felt a flutter in my stomach that had nothing to do with my impending treatment.

Nathan was looking at me intently now. "You couldn't what, Beth?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, the door opened and the doctor walked in.

"Hello, Elizabeth," he said cheerfully. "Ready for round two?"

The moment shattered like glass. Nathan leaned back in his chair, his expression carefully neutral. I turned to the doctor, forcing a smile onto my face.

"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose," I replied.

As the doctor began explaining the procedure, even though I'd heard it all before, I couldn't help but feel at a loss for words. What had I been about to say to Nathan? And more importantly, did I even know the answer myself?

The next few hours passed in a blur of needle pricks, IV drips, and the steady beep of monitors. Mum chatted quietly with the nurses, asking questions and taking notes. Nathan alternated between scrolling through his phone and watching me.

As for me, I drifted in and out of awareness, the drugs making me feel disconnected from my own body. At one point, I thought I felt Nathan's hand slip into mine, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on my skin. But when I opened my eyes, he was sitting as he had been, hands in his lap, staring at the wall.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the nurse announced that we were done for the day.

"Remember to drink plenty of fluids," she said as she removed the IV. "And don't hesitate to call if you experience any unusual side effects."

I nodded, too exhausted to speak. As I stood up, the room spun around me, and I stumbled.

"Whoa, easy there," Nathan said, his arm instantly around my waist, steadying me. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through my body, and for a moment, I let myself lean into him.

"Thanks," I murmured, reluctantly pulling away once I'd regained my balance.

We made our way slowly out of the hospital, the fluorescent lights harsh against my sensitive eyes. By the time we reached the car park, I felt ready to collapse.

"Nathan, dear," Mum said as we approached our car. "Would you like a lift home?"

Nathan shook his head. "No, thanks. I drove here. But..." he hesitated, glancing at me. "Would it be alright if I stopped by on my way home? To check on Beth?"

Mum smiled warmly. "Of course. You're always welcome, you know that."

As Nathan turned to leave, I felt a sudden panic rise in my chest. There was still so much left unsaid between us.

"Nathan, wait," I called out, my voice hoarse.

He turned back, a question in his eyes.

"I... Thank you. For being here today. It means a lot."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Always, Beth. I'll see you in a bit, okay?"

I nodded, watching as he walked away. As Mum helped me into the car, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between Nathan and me. Whether it was for better or worse, I wasn't sure. But as we drove home, the effects of the chemo already starting to take hold, I found myself looking forward to seeing him again.

Maybe then, I'd finally find the courage to finish what I'd started to say in the hospital room. Maybe then, I'd be able to sort out the tangled mess of emotions in my heart. Maybe then, I'd be able to face not just my feelings for Nathan, but my fears about my illness and my uncertain future.

When we pulled into our driveway, I made a silent promise to myself. No more running away. No more hiding. Whatever happened next, I'd face it head-on. Because if cancer had taught me anything, it was that life was too short for maybes and what-ifs.

As we got inside and I settled onto the sofa, I noticed Mum checking her mobile phone, a small frown creasing her forehead.

"Everything alright?" I asked, my voice sounding weak even to my own ears.

Mum looked up, her expression softening. "Oh, it's nothing to worry about, love. Your dad just texted. Meri's not feeling well, so he's picking her up early from school."

"Is she okay?"

"I'm sure it's just a bit of a tummy bug," Mum reassured me. "Your dad's going to take her to the park later if she's feeling up to it. He thought the fresh air might do her good."

I nodded, trying to push away the nagging feeling that I was somehow letting Meri down. It wasn't fair that at six years old, she had to deal with having a sick older sister.

I closed my eyes, letting the familiar sounds and smells of home wash over me. The ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway, a wedding gift to my parents. The faint scent of lavender from the sachets she tucked into every drawer. The distant hum of the neighbour's lawnmower.

It was all so normal, so everyday. And yet, everything had changed.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, Mum was gently shaking me awake.

"Sweetheart, do you think you can manage some soup?"

I nodded, slowly pushing myself up into a sitting position. My stomach churned at the thought of food, but I knew I needed to eat something.

As I sipped the warm broth, my mind wandered back to Nathan. I couldn't stop replaying our interaction at the hospital, analysing every word, every gesture. What had I been about to say before the doctor interrupted us?

"Mum," I said, setting down my half-empty bowl. "Can I ask you something?"

She looked up from her magazine. "Of course, love. What is it?"

I hesitated, not sure how to put my jumbled thoughts into words. "How... how did you know you were in love with Dad?"

Surprise flickered across her face as she set the magazine aside.

"Oh, Beth," she sighed. "Love isn't always a lightning bolt moment, you know. Sometimes it sneaks up on you, grows so gradually you don't even notice until it's already taken root."

She paused, a faraway look in her eyes. "With your father, it was like that. One day he was just my friend from uni, and the next... well, I couldn't imagine my life without him in it."

Just like how I couldn't imagine my life without Nathan in it.

"Is this about Nathan?" Mum asked gently, interrupting my thoughts.

I felt my cheeks grow warm. "Maybe," I admitted. "He... he told me he loves me. Last Thursday, after our not-date."

"Ah," Mum said, nodding as if this explained everything. "And how do you feel about that?"

"I don't know," I said, frustration creeping into my voice. "I mean, it's Nathan. He's my best friend. He's seen me at my worst, knows all my embarrassing secrets. He's the first person I want to talk to when something good happens, and the only one who can make me laugh when everything seems hopeless. But..."

"But?" Mum prompted.

"But what if it doesn't work out? What if we try and it ruins everything? I can't lose him, Mum. Not now. Not with everything else going on."

Mum reached out, taking my hand in hers. "Oh, my darling girl. I wish I could tell you there's a guaranteed way to avoid heartbreak. But the truth is, love always involves risk. The question is, is it a risk worth taking?"

I thought about Nathan's face at the hospital, the mix of concern and affection in his eyes. I thought about all the times he'd made me laugh, all the times he'd held me while I cried. I thought about the way my heart had raced when he kissed me on the beach.

"I think," I said slowly, "I think it might be."

Mum squeezed my hand, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Then that's your answer, isn't it?"

Before I could respond, the doorbell rang. My heart leapt into my throat. Nathan.

"That'll be him," Mum said, standing up. "Are you up for a visitor?"

I nodded, suddenly nervous. "Yeah, I think so."

As Mum went to answer the door, I quickly ran my fingers through my hair, trying to make myself look a bit less like I'd just woken up from a post-chemo nap. It was a futile effort, I knew, but I couldn't help it.

I heard muffled voices in the hallway, then footsteps approaching. Nathan appeared in the doorway, a tentative smile on his face and a paper bag in his hand.

"Hey," he said softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been run over by a lorry," I replied honestly. "But I'm glad you're here."

His smile widened a bit at that. He came into the room, settling into the armchair across from me. "I, uh, I brought you something," he said, holding out the paper bag.

I took it, curious. Inside, I found a pint of my favourite ice cream and a well-worn paperback copy of "Pride and Prejudice".

"I remembered when you were you were younger, that sometimes only Jane Austen and ice cream can make you feel better," he explained, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "I thought... well, I thought you might need both today."

I felt a lump form in my throat, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you," I managed to say. "This is perfect."

We fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes from years of friendship. But there was an undercurrent of tension too, unspoken words hanging in the air between us.

Finally, Nathan cleared his throat. "Listen, Beth, about what happened at the beach—"

"No, wait," I interrupted. "Let me go first. Please?"

He nodded, looking both nervous and hopeful.

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my courage. "Nathan, you've been my best friend for as long as I can remember. You know me better than anyone else in the world. And when you told me you loved me... I panicked."

His face fell, and I hurried to continue. "Not because I don't have feelings for you. But because I do."

His eyes widened. "You do?"

I nodded, feeling my cheeks grow warm. "I think I have for a while now. I just... I was scared. I am scared. Of changing things between us, of losing you if it doesn't work out. And with everything else going on..." I gestured vaguely at myself, encompassing my illness and treatment.

Nathan leaned forward, his eyes intense. "Beth, you could never lose me. No matter what happens between us, I'll always be here for you. Always."

"I know," I said, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "That's one of the reasons I love you."

The words slipped out before I could stop them, but as soon as they were out, I knew they were true. Nathan's breath caught, his eyes searching mine as if to confirm he'd heard correctly.

"You love me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, a watery smile spreading across my face. "I do. I love you, Nathan. And it terrifies me, but I think... I think it might be worth the risk."

In an instant, Nathan was out of his chair and kneeling beside me on the sofa. His hand came up to cup my cheek, his touch infinitely gentle.

"Beth," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You're worth any risk. You're worth everything."

And then he was kissing me, and this time, I kissed him back. It wasn't like the movies – there were no fireworks, no swelling music. But there was warmth, and comfort, and a sense of coming home.

When we finally pulled apart, both a little breathless, I couldn't help but laugh. "We're quite a pair, aren't we? Confessing our love in my living room, right after a chemo session."

Nathan grinned, resting his forehead against mine. "Hey, at least it's memorable."

As we sat there, fingers intertwined, I felt... happy. I knew that there were still challenges ahead – my illness, the uncertainty of the future, the complexities of shifting from friendship to something more. But for the first time in a long while, I felt truly hopeful.

Whatever came next, I wouldn't face it alone. I had my family, steady and supportive. I had Nathan, my best friend and now something more. And I had myself – stronger than I'd ever given myself credit for.

I snuggled closer to Nathan. "So," I said, reaching for the bag he'd brought. "Fancy some ice cream and Austen?"

He laughed, pressing a kiss to my temple. "With you? Always."