I blinked awake, the harsh morning light filtering through my curtains. For a blissful moment, I forgot. Then reality came crashing back. I'm dying. Six months left, give or take. The thought settled over me like a lead blanket, and all I wanted was to burrow back under my duvet and sleep until... well, forever.

I grabbed my phone, squinting at the too-bright screen. 8 AM. Why on earth was I up this early? Groaning, I rolled over, ready to drift off again. But then my alarm blared, startling me fully awake. I fumbled to shut it off, catching the sight of the note I'd set.

Day out with Nathan today.

"Bugger," I muttered, memories of agreeing to his outing flooding back. Part of me wanted to text Nathan and beg to reschedule. But I'd already ignored him for a week after my diagnosis. I couldn't do that to him again.

Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled to the mirror. The girl staring back looks like a mess. My bedhead was sticking up in all directions, dark circles were under my eyes, and my skin was pale. I'd always been slim, but now I looked unhealthily skinny. Dying didn't do wonders for the appetite, as it turns out.

I stumbled into the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face in a vain attempt to look less like death warmed over. The irony wasn't lost on me. I had a quick brush of my teeth, and I headed back to my room to get dressed.

My wardrobe seemed to mock me. Half my clothes didn't fit right anymore; I was losing weight faster than I could keep up. After far too much deliberation, I settled on a blue sundress. It hung a bit loose, but it would have to do.

As I tugged it on, my mind wandered to Monday—the start of my palliative chemo. Every Monday after that, too, until... well, until I died, I supposed. The thought made my stomach churn.

I grabbed my hairbrush from the dresser and quickly ran it through my tangled locks. It was thinner than before, and I winched as the brush caught on a particularly stubborn knot. Finally, I managed to smooth it down into something presentable.

I wanted to crawl back into bed, pull the covers over my head, and pretend the world didn't exist. But I'd made a promise to Nathan. And if I only had six months left, I reckoned I should try to keep the few promises I had left to fulfil.

I slipped on a pair of comfy sandals, wincing as I caught sight of my bony ankles. Shaking the thought, I crept downstairs, careful not to wake anyone. Mum and Dad were probably still asleep, and Meri could sleep through an earthquake.

The smell of coffee hit me as I reached the bottom of the stairs. Weird. I poked my head into the kitchen, surprised to see Mum hunched over a steaming mug at the table.

"You're up early," she said, looking just as startled to see me.

I shrugged. "Not by choice. Nathan's coming today, remember?"

"Ah, right," Mum nodded, sipping her coffee. "I'd forgotten about that."

"Where's Dad?" I asked, grabbing a glass of water. My stomach churned at the thought of food.

"Still snoring away upstairs. Meri, too."

I leaned against the counter, studying her. The lines around her eyes seemed more profound, the silver in her hair more pronounced. "I'm surprised you're not still sleeping too."

A sad smile flickered across her face. "Couldn't sleep. Didn't want to keep your dad up with my tossing and turning."

Guilt twisted deep in my gut. It was my fault. My fault Mum couldn't sleep, my fault Dad looked ten years older, my fault Meri cried herself to sleep most nights. I was such a burden on all of them.

"Beth?" Mum's voice cut through my spiralling thoughts. "You okay, love?"

I forced a smile. "Yeah, just... tired."

She nodded, then straightened up. "Don't forget, we've got your chemo appointment on Monday."

"How could I forget?" The words came out sharper than I'd intended.

Silence fell between us, thick and uncomfortable. I stared at the floor, tracing patterns in the linoleum with my toe.

"So," Mum said finally, "when's Nathan coming?"

I shrugged. "Dunno. Waiting for him to text."

"And where are you two off to?"

Another shrug. "He said it's a surprise. Your guess is as good as mine."

Mum opened her mouth, probably to say it wasn't a good idea to go, but I cut her off. "Don't worry, I've got my phone. I'll text you."

She nodded, but I could see the worry etched into every line of her face. I hated that look. I hated being the cause of it.

My phone buzzed in my hand, and I looked at it—a text from Nathan.

"On my way! Be there in 5. Hope you're ready for an adventure!"

I showed Mum the text. "Guess I'd better go grab my stuff."

As I headed back upstairs, Mum called, "Beth?"

I paused, looking back. "Yeah?"

She seemed to struggle for words. "Just... have fun, okay?"

I nodded.

Have fun. Right.

Because that was so easy when you were dying.

Back in my room, I grabbed a small backpack, tossing in my wallet, water bottle, and a light cardigan. I caught sight of myself in the mirror again and grimaced. The sundress hung off me like a sack.

I rummaged through my drawers, finding a thin belt to cinch it at the waist. Better. At least now, I looked less like a walking skeleton.

My phone buzzed again.

"Outside. Come on, slowpoke!"

I took a deep breath. This was it—no backing out now. I headed downstairs, calling out a goodbye to Mum.

As I opened the front door, I squinted in the bright sunlight. Nathan was leaning against his beat-up Ford Fiesta, but he jogged up to the house as soon as he saw me.

"Morning, Beth," he called, then waved past me. "Hi, Mrs Reid."

I turned to see Mum standing behind me, a tired smile on her face. "Nathan, I've known you since you were in nappies. Please, call me Catherine," she said. "You two have big plans for today?"

Nathan grinned. "Oh, you know, just a little adventure. Nothing too crazy, I promise."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right. With you, who knows what we'll end up doing."

Mum rested a hand on my shoulder. "Nathan, make sure Beth is looked after, alright? And Beth, don't overdo it."

I felt a flicker of irritation at her over-protectiveness, but I bit it back. "I'll be fine, Mum."

She nodded, then stifled a yawn. "I think I'm going to take a little nap on the couch. You two have fun."

As we walked to Nathan's car, he glanced back at the house. "Is your mum okay? She looked pretty tired."

I shrugged. "She's not been sleeping well lately."

"Because of—"

"Yup," I cut him off, not wanting to dwell on it. "So, where are we off to?"

"Good try, but I'm not saying anything."

As I climbed into the passenger seat, I couldn't help but wonder what I'd gotten myself into. Nathan had been my best friend since we were kids, but sometimes, his relentless optimism was exhausting.

But maybe that was just the cancer talking.

I settled into the seat, the familiar streets of our small town rolling by, giving way to the country lanes.

Nathan glanced over at me. "Hey, check out the plastic bag at your feet."

I raised an eyebrow but leaned down to peek inside. There was a brand-new notepad, its cover a swirl of vibrant colours, and a pack of pens. "What's this for?" I asked, pulling it out.

Nathan's eyes were on the road, but I could see the corners of his mouth twitching up. "It's for your bucket list. So you can write down all your ideas instead of just trying to remember them."

I stared at the notepad in my hands, a lump forming in my throat. It was such a simple thing, but its thoughtfulness hit me hard. "Nathan, I... thank you."

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but I could see the pleased look on his face. "Well, go on then. Start writing!"

I hesitated for a moment, then cracked open the notepad. The blank page stared back at me, full of possibilities. Where to even begin?

"Alright," I said, uncapping a pen. "Let's see... Skydiving. I want to try that at least once before I kick the bucket."

Nathan laughed. "Your Mum's going to love that one."

I grinned, scribbling it down. "Okay, what else..."

As Nathan drove, I kept writing, ideas flowing faster than I could get them down. Some were silly — like eating an entire tub of ice cream in one sitting or dying my hair a crazy colour. Others were bigger, more impossible dreams — travelling to Paris, seeing the Northern Lights, learning to surf.

"Oo, I've got one," Nathan piped up. "How about staying up all night to watch the sunrise?"

I nodded, adding it to the list. "That's a good one. Oh, and maybe skinny dipping?"

Nathan nearly swerved off the road. "Beth!"

I laughed at his scandalised expression. "What? I'm dying, remember? Might as well live a little."

He shook his head, but I could see him fighting a smile. "Alright, wild child. What else you got?"

We bounced ideas back and forth as the miles rolled by. Some made us laugh, and others led to deeper conversations. When I mentioned wanting to volunteer at an animal shelter, it sparked a discussion about legacies and what we wanted to leave behind.

"I just... I want to do something that matters, you know?" I said, twirling the pen between my fingers. "Something that'll make a difference, even after I'm gone."

Nathan sat still for a moment, "You already make a difference, Beth. Every day."

I felt my cheeks warm and quickly looked back down at my list. "Right, uhm... Oh! I want to plant a tree. Something that'll grow big and strong long after I'm gone."

I felt a strange mix of sadness and hope as I wrote it down. Planning for a future I wouldn't be part of was weird. But there was something comforting about it, too, like I was leaving little pieces of myself behind.

"Maybe we could do that together," Nathan suggested. "Pick out a spot, plant it somewhere nice."

I smiled, touched by the offer. "Yeah, I'd like that."

It was silent for a while; the only sounds were the engine's hum and my pen scratching against paper. I'd filled several pages, each item a little promise to myself.

"Oh!" I exclaimed suddenly. "I want to write letters. To you, to Mum and Dad, to Meri. Something for you all to read... you know, after."

Nathan's hands tightened on the steering wheel, but his voice was steady when he spoke. "That's a great idea, Beth."

I nodded, adding it to the list. It was hard to think about, but I wanted them to have something to hold onto, some final words from me.

"Before I forget, add the drive-in movie theatre."

I perked up at the idea. "Ooh, yes! Your idea from yesterday! When can we go?"

Nathan chuckled, tapping on the steering wheel. "Not sure yet, but we can figure out. Maybe next weekend? I'll have to check what's playing."

"Sounds perfect," I said, jotting it on the list. "We could bring loads of snacks."

"Absolutely," Nathan agreed. "Popcorn, chocolate, those fizzy drinks you like... we'll go all out."

I grinned, already looking forward to it.

"Oh, here's another one," I said suddenly. "I want to learn how to bake a proper cake. Not just from a box mix, but from scratch."

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you nearly burn down the kitchen last time you tried to bake?"

I swatted at his arm playfully. "That was one time! And I was twelve. I've matured since then."

"Uh-huh," he said, sounding unconvinced. "If you want a baking teacher, my mum makes a mean Victoria sponge. I bet she'd love to show you how."

Spending an afternoon in Nathan's house, learning to bake, warmed my chest. "That'd be lovely," I said softly, adding it to the list.

The list grew longer. Some items were extensive and grand — like seeing the Great Wall of China or learning to speak Italian. Others were smaller and more intimate, like having a proper heart-to-heart with Dad or teaching Meri to braid her hair like I do.

"You know," Nathan said after a while, "we don't have to wait to do all these. Some of them we could do right away."

I looked up from writing. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Like, that one about trying a new food every week? We could start that today. And stargazing? We could do that tonight if you want."

"That sounds amazing. Though, I might need a nap before any late-night stargazing."

As if on cue, a yawn escaped me. I glanced at the time on the dashboard, surprised to see how long we'd been driving. "How much longer till we get there?"

Nathan pursed his lips. "Hmm, probably another hour at least. If you're tired, get some sleep. I'll wake you up when we're there."

I  hesitated momentarily, not wanting to be rude by sleeping while he drove. But another yawn overcame me, and I must admit I was exhausted. "Okay, thanks," I said, putting the pad and pens back in the bag.

I leaned back against the headrest, closing my eyes. I could hear Nathan start to hum quietly, a melody I vaguely recognised but couldn't quite place.

As I drifted off, I thought about Nathan. About how he'd jumped into this bucket list idea with both feet. How he was already planning ways to make these dreams come true. I was lucky, I realised, to have someone like him. Someone who wasn't afraid to face this with me, who was determined to pack as much living as possible into whatever time I had left.

The sound of Nathan's humming grew fainter as sleep began to pull me under. I let my mind wander, imagining us at the drive-in movie, laughing over popcorn and fizzy drinks. I pictured myself in Nathan's kitchen, flour on my nose as I learned to bake. I saw us lying on a blanket under the stars, pointing out constellations and making wishes on shooting stars.

These weren't just ideas on a list anymore. They were possibilities, adventures waiting to happen. And even though I knew my time was limited, it felt like the future was wide open.

As I slipped into my dreams, I was last aware of Nathan's voice, softly singing along to the radio. It was a song about seizing the day, about making every moment count. How fitting, I thought hazily before sleep finally claimed me.

The gentle rhythm of the car and Nathan's quiet singing faded away, replaced by dreams of what was to come.

And even though I knew the clock was ticking, at that moment — sleeping in the seat of his beat-up car, a notebook full of dreams at my feet — I felt more alive than I had in weeks.