I make a wish and blow out the candles in one breath. “That means you’ll get your
wish,” says Nell, but mine is not a wish that can be granted.

reading The Time Traveller's Wife currently and i'm reaching the end soon.
i hate it because i can't stop reading it and it's so sad, it's so sad.
what would you do when you know you're about to die in 5 years, and cannot tell your wife?
but your wife was, in fact witness to it when she was 6 years old, and she knows, but she doesn't.

 “Clare.”
“Mmm?”
“When I’m dead—” Henry stops, looks away, takes a breath, begins again. “I’ve been getting everything organized, all the documents, you know, my will, and letters to people, and stuff for Alba, it’s all in my desk.” I can’t say anything. Henry looks at me.
“When?” I ask. Henry shakes his head. “Months? Weeks? Days?”
“I don’t know, Clare.” He does know, I know he knows.
“You looked up the obituary, didn’t you?” I say. Henry hesitates, and then nods. I open my mouth to ask again, and then I am afraid.