My Final Winter summary: “It’ll be six months at most.” Just like that, my ordinary life crumbled with a single sentence—a sudden terminal diagnosis I never saw coming. As if that wasn’t enough, my best friend of over ten years suddenly confesses: “I’ve loved you… for more than a decade.” Now I have half a year left. Just six months. A brief flicker of time where everything feels both too short and painfully long. What am I supposed to do with a love I never had the chance to notice? How do I hold on to a future that’s slipping away before it can begin? In these fleeting days, it’s just you and me—stumbling through borrowed time, trying to find meaning in the moments we still have. If our time together is limited… Can love still be enough?