I asked the doctor.

“How much time do I have left? The time given to me.”

“…About three months. But since there is still a good chance, you should consider having the surgery…”

I gave a hollow laugh at the word “chance.”

Chance always holds people back.

Everyone either despairs or holds onto hope with that word.

It’s the kind of hope that prays to be alive, no matter what.

However, that small chance, wrapped in a pleasant-sounding hope, was just empty comfort to me.

“That’s enough. How should I put it… I’m tired.”

With that, I decide to cut ties and leave.

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