Outside the window, the snow had long since stopped, and the sky was as clear as if it had been washed, making the stars appear exceptionally vivid.

After adding another log to the fireplace, I approached her as she sat by the window and pulled the blanket a little higher over her shoulders.

I pulled up a chair and sat beside her. The room was silent. Only the crackling of the logs in the hearth, the occasional whistle of the winter wind seeping through the window frame, and her shallow breathing filled the space. I had long since developed a habit of listening intently to that breath. Even in the middle of the night, I would suddenly wake up and check her breathing before I could close my eyes again.

I quietly took her hand. It was cold. I tucked it between both of my hands, trying my best to share even a little warmth. She gave my hand a slight, weak squeeze in return.

It had been two days since the doctor visited. He had pulled me aside to say a few words, but I still couldn't properly process them. Only the phrase 'before spring comes' kept circling in my head. I looked out at the snow-covered garden and counted how much time was left until the snow melted and the flowers bloomed again. Then, I stopped counting altogether.

The candle flickered in the draft, causing shadows to sway wildly against the wall. I watched them for a moment before turning my gaze back to her profile. The starlight passed through the glass pane and rested faintly upon her cheek. I sat there for a long time, wanting to engrave that sight into my memory forever.