The Fading Moon Chapter 25: The Box of Tomorrow

Read chapter 25 of The Fading Moon by MananTayal on NovelPedia.

The days after the meteor shower passed quietly. Too quietly. Mike had always believed silence was comforting. Before Jessika, he had spent most of his life alone. He liked quiet cafés. Empty streets. Long train rides where nobody spoke. Silence had once been his friend. Now it frightened him. Because every quiet day felt like another page being torn from a calendar. Another step toward something he didn't want to face. Another reminder that time never stopped moving. No matter how desperately he wanted it to. Jessika remained in the hospital. Some days were better than others. Sometimes she could laugh and joke as if nothing was wrong. Other days she barely had enough energy to sit up. The contrast was becoming harder to ignore. And harder to watch. Yet somehow she continued smiling. As if she was protecting everyone around her from the truth. Especially Mike. One afternoon, he arrived at the hospital carrying a small paper bag from a bakery. The moment he entered the room, he frowned. Jessika wasn't there. Her bed was empty. The blanket was folded. The room was silent. His heart instantly skipped a beat. For a terrifying moment, every terrible possibility raced through his mind. Then he heard a voice. "You're late." Mike turned. Jessika was sitting by the window in a wheelchair. A notebook resting on her lap. A mischievous smile on her face. Relief washed through him so quickly his knees nearly gave out. "Don't do that." She blinked. "Do what?" "Disappear." "Oh." Her smile softened. "Sorry." Mike exhaled slowly. The fear still lingered. Jessika noticed. And for a moment, guilt flickered across her expression. Then she quickly changed the subject. "Did you bring food?" "Of course." Her eyes immediately brightened. The crisis was forgotten. At least for now. They shared pastries while sunlight poured through the window. For a little while it felt normal. Like any ordinary afternoon. Like two ordinary people. Not a girl fighting a losing battle. Not a man terrified of losing the person he loved. Just Mike and Jessika. And sometimes that illusion was enough. After they finished eating, Jessika suddenly reached beneath her chair. She pulled out a small cardboard box. It wasn't large. Maybe the size of a shoebox. Its lid was covered with stickers. Stars. Moons. Clouds. Tiny cameras. Handwritten doodles. The moment Mike saw it, he knew it was one of hers. No one decorated things quite like Jessika. "What is that?" She placed the box carefully on her lap. Then smiled. "This..." She tapped the lid. "...is my Box of Tomorrow." Mike stared. "That sounds concerning." "It sounds amazing." "It sounds concerning." She ignored him. "As usual." Then she opened the box. Inside were dozens of envelopes. Small gifts. Folded papers. Photographs. Tiny trinkets. All organized neatly. Mike frowned. "What is this?" Jessika hesitated. For the first time, uncertainty appeared in her eyes. Then she took a deep breath. "It's for your future." Mike immediately didn't like where this conversation was going. "Jessika..." "Listen first." She smiled gently. "Please." His chest tightened. But he nodded. So she continued. "I started making it a few months ago." She picked up one envelope. "There are letters." Another. "Instructions." Another. "Birthday messages." Another. "Messages for bad days." Another. "Messages for good days." Mike felt his stomach twist. Because he already understood. He understood exactly what she was doing. And he hated it. "Jessika." "There are even messages for when your photography book gets published." His eyes dropped. She wasn't preparing for tomorrow. She was preparing for a future she believed she wouldn't be part of. A future without her. The realization hurt more than he expected. Far more. Jessika looked down at the box. "I know you don't like this." Mike couldn't answer. Because if he opened his mouth, he wasn't sure what would come out. Anger. Fear. Grief. Maybe all three. She smiled sadly. "But I need to do it." The room f