The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come
He had read Kazran's answer in someone else eyes, though. Those shine, witty, flirty eyes that looked into his with love, pain and despair. She had made the choice, not him, and he hated it. He wanted her to allow him the sacrifice, the pain, for the sake of her life – not because he loved her, but because he knew he would one day. She'd be the one he trusted above anyone else, except for himself.
She wouldn't allow it, she wouldn't have it. She wanted her life fully lived as she had lived it, she'd never accept a change like the one's he brought to that old man. She had chosen the day he knew her no longer, the day when the love didn't exist anymore – or yet – to be her last one.
One day, he knew, it would be his time to choose the last day of the woman he was yet to love with a fierce feeling that nothing could match. And, watching the couple enjoying their last day, he wondered how he could do that once again. Losing some so important, so full of energy, that turned his life into a unique song, full of expectation, of colors, of emotions flowing freely and pouring into his days like a golden thread, luring him in.
That was in the future. For now, he'd be ok.