Jasmine's eyes were still closed when she heard the soft footsteps that her heart had conditioned itself to leap at the sound of. She couldn't help the small smile that curled her otherwise pained lips upward. It was him, she just knew it. Hearing those boots against the hardwood flooring of the Clinical Transitional Unit was exactly what she needed, because as the sound approached her room, her heart did that silly little dance that it'd grown accustomed to in the last three weeks. Every day around eleven, without fail, she heard those boots move in her direction. Every day, that familiar young man with his brilliant smile and his warm eyes would enter her room, check on her, make sure she was okay and if she needed anything. Every day, the two would sit and laugh and talk about everything for as long as they could before he realised he needed to leave.

And every day, around 11:45, Jasmine would remind herself why she didn't fall in love with nurses. Why she /couldn't/.

His name was Chad. She knew about his mother, about his estranged younger sister, about his dream of opening up his own restaurant. She knew he was in his mid-twenties, he was single, and he was a country boy at heart.

She also knew that he was unfairly attractive, he had the most gorgeous blue eyes she'd ever seen, and that she was sure that this time, she'd found the one. Mark wasn't "the one" because he had a thing against adding an extra espresso shot to an already strong drink, and that just wouldn't do because Jasmine was a writer and she loved her espresso. No man was going to get in between her one true love. Nope.

Perry wasn't "the one" because she couldn't decide if she wanted a time period wedding or a geeky themed one. Jasmine was an old-school, Renaissance era type of girl, so that wouldn't do either.

But /Chad/. Oh my.

She laid in her bed that afternoon after Chad had left twirling her blanket around her finger and chewing on her lip as she kept her eyes focused on the notebook that sat on her bedside table. In the weeks she'd been in the hospital for her illness, she hadn't really gotten the chance to write, and that had gotten the better of her a few days ago. The thing about writers is that if they for any reason cannot get an idea out of their head and have no way of jotting it down, it will nag at them until they go mad. And, well. Jasmine had gone mad. Mind you, that's what her chart said she was anyway, but that wasn't the point.

She chewed on her lip until it was raw before leaning forward and picking the notebook up. Upon closer inspection, she realised it was more of a journal than a notebook, what with the hard cover and the beautiful photo of jasmine on it. She smiled to herself as she flipped the cover over and re-read the inscription inside for the hundredth time.

"To Jasmine -- Because I know not writing has driven you crazy. I hope to get a chance to see what a fantastic writer you are one day. Until then, here, a place to jot down your deepest thoughts and your most cherished ideas. May the time you have left here be filled with wonder and excitement, not pain and despair as it has in recent past. It's time to turn over a new leaf and start anew. This is where your life begins, not where it ends.

All my best, Chad."


With a flutter in her heart and a smile upon her lips, she flipped open to the first blank page and lifted the pen she'd been given to the paper, her hand shaking just a bit as she scrawled the first thing that came to mind.

"The day I learned I was terminal was the day my life truly began..."