Anne Hathaway struggled to write with her right hand in her diary:
"I'm seriously ill and currently hospitalized. I used to be terrified of pain, but for the sake of surviving, I've endured every bit of it during treatment. So please, don't ever say things like 'I want to die' so casually."
"I'm sorry…"
"No, I'm the one who should apologize. Forgive my tone. Today's bone marrow puncture was excruciating. I'm just… not in the best mood right now."
In Luke's mind, an image appeared:
Anne lay facedown on the hospital bed as a huge needle pierced into her back, sliding deep between her spinal vertebrae.
The pain was so intense that she couldn't even cry — she just clutched the sheets tightly, her knuckles turning red.
Luke's eyes stung as he imagined it. Just as he was about to reply, new words appeared in the diary:
"I'm fighting to stay alive. I'm still young — I want to go to school, fall in love, and experience all the beautiful things life has to offer. The doctor said I might only have six months left to live. But until the very last moment, I'll never give up."
"You're incredible! You're the bravest girl I've ever met," Luke wrote solemnly.
"Please don't give up either. Let's both keep fighting. And if one day I'm no longer here, promise me you'll keep running forward — for both of us. I want you to fulfill my dreams in my place," Anne replied.
"Compared to your courage and everything you've endured, I'm far too weak. But for you, I'll be strong. I won't give up again!"
"Luke, I'm so glad I met you."
"Anne, I'm glad I met you too."
As Luke wrote that line, a sudden thought struck him — I've never even seen Anne. Can I really say I know her?
What could he possibly do for her?
Then an idea flashed through his mind. He pressed his pen firmly to the page:
"Tomorrow, I'm coming to see you!"
"Huh?"
"Tomorrow is April 20th — for me, it's April 20th, 2001. But for you, it's April 20th two years in the future. When you read this message, promise me you'll come see me two years from now, on that same date. If I see you tomorrow, it'll mean you beat your illness — that you've created a miracle."
"I'll remember. Where should we meet?"
"I know the hospital where you're staying. At 9:20 a.m., I'll be waiting for you under the big tree in the courtyard, on the white bench. It's a promise — no matter what, we'll meet."
"I remember. No matter what, I'll be there."
The next morning at 9:00, Luke arrived early at the hospital.
He sat on the white bench beneath the big tree, anxiously waiting for Anne to appear.
At 9:20, she hadn't come. At 10:20, still no sign of her.
His heart sank lower and lower. Why isn't she here? Could it be that…
He waited in restless silence until noon, but the girl never came.
A deep sorrow gripped his heart — the brave girl had never lived to see her miracle.
She was gone.
Holding back tears, Luke opened the diary he'd brought with him. After hesitating a moment, he wrote:
"Today, I saw you. You were twenty, full of energy and life — completely free from illness. We talked for hours, laughing the whole time, and promised to meet again soon. I just want to say… you were even more beautiful than I imagined."
A single tear slid down his cheek, splashing onto the page and smudging the ink.
Then the camera shifted — and on screen, both Luke and Anne were shown sitting on the same white bench.
He sat on the left; she sat on the right. Both of them held the same open diary.
They sat in the same spot, but in different timelines — unable to see or hear each other.
Anne looked down at the page, noticing the ink blurred by his tear. She instantly understood: her future self had never made it to that meeting.
She bowed her head and whispered softly, "Liar."
But then she smiled faintly and wrote:
"That's wonderful. I'm still alive. Thank you for telling me such good news. You must be really handsome — I can't wait to finally meet you in person someday."
Reading those words, Luke could no longer hold back his tears.
With trembling hands, he wrote:
"Please keep fighting. Believe me — a beautiful future is waiting for you. We will meet one day."
"Can I… touch your hand?" Anne wrote.
"Of course. I'm placing my right hand in the middle of the bench right now."
In his time, Luke stretched out his scarred right hand and placed it gently on the center of the white bench.
In her time, Anne reached out her left hand and laid it in the same spot.
It was as if time itself folded — their hands overlapped, fingers interlocking tightly through the barrier of years.
They smiled at each other — eyes brimming with tears, hearts connected beyond space and time.
Then, in the next instant, Anne vanished — leaving no trace behind.
Only Luke remained, sitting quietly on the bench as the evening sunlight washed over him.
He didn't move for a long, long time.
When he finally stood up, his shadow stretched across the golden light — a lonely figure fading into dusk.
In the days that followed, Luke overcame his pain and returned to the octagon.
Through countless grueling fights, he clawed his way back to the top — and once again claimed the championship belt.
But this time, standing at the center of glory, he didn't bask in it.
He quietly took his gold belt and returned to that same white bench beneath the big tree.
Placing the belt gently on the bench, he whispered,
"I did it. Thank you… for giving me the strength to keep going when I was at my lowest."
"I just wish you could see this moment for yourself."
As he bent over, trying not to cry, a pair of white canvas shoes appeared in his view.
Startled, he looked up — and there she was.
Anne stood before him in a white floral dress, smiling like a princess bathed in sunlight.
"Luke, we promised we'd see each other again — and here I am."
Her smile was brighter than the noonday sun — it pierced straight into his heart.
Before he could even react, she ran forward and threw herself into his arms.
They held each other tightly, afraid that if they let go, the other would disappear again.
After a long moment, Anne gently pulled away.
Luke reluctantly loosened his embrace — and then she rose on her toes and kissed him softly on the lips.