The sound of drums and laughter echoed from afar.
Nepal's biggest festival had begun — the streets were glowing with lanterns, children were running with sparklers, and fireworks cracked somewhere in the distance.
But MK was lying in bed, pale, dark circles under his eyes.
His phone screen lit up.
> Mi-un (Call): ring… ring…
He smiled faintly and picked up.
"Hey…" MK said softly, hiding the weakness in his voice.
"Are you watching the festival?" Mi-un's voice was warm, cheerful. "I can hear music from here. Is it beautiful?"
MK forced a laugh.
"Yeah… it's beautiful."
She kept talking about her day, about how she wished she could visit Nepal during this time. MK just listened, smiling through the pain.
When the call ended, his smile slowly faded.
He turned to Sandeep, who was sitting silently in the corner.
"Please… take me to the festival," MK whispered.
Sandeep's eyes widened. "Right now? You can barely stand—"
"Please," MK repeated, voice cracking.
"This might be my last time. I want to see the fireworks… one last time."
Minutes later, Sandeep was carrying him on his back through the lively streets.
Children looked at them curiously, but MK didn't care.
He could smell roasted peanuts, hear laughter, see lanterns floating into the night sky.
For a moment, it felt like he was part of the world again.
"Look…" MK pointed weakly at the sky as fireworks burst into colors.
His lips curved into a genuine smile.
"This is perfect…" he whispered.
When they finally returned home, MK collapsed onto his bed, breathing heavily.
Sandeep sat next to him, worried.
"Don't scare me like that again," Sandeep muttered.
MK smiled faintly and reached under his pillow.
He pulled out a worn-out diary — the one he had been writing in for months.
"If I'm gone by the time she comes…"
MK's voice trembled.
"…can you give this to her? Please."
Sandeep clenched his fists but nodded silently.
The next morning, the house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Sandeep opened the door to MK's room.
The heart monitor was off.
MK lay ther
e, peaceful, as if asleep — the diary still clutched in his hand.