Goodbye tiara

Third person's pov The sterile scent of the hospital clung to Tiara like a shroud, a constant reminder of the unwelcome guest residing within her. Two months. Sixty days to rewrite a lifetime of being unseen, unloved. The doctor's words echoed in her ears, a death knell to a life that had barely begun, a life where her parents saw her as a disappointment, her brothers as a nuisance, and her fiancé… well, he simply tolerated her. They were her world, her sun and stars, even if their light never warmed her. Her parents, consumed by their own ambitions, saw her as a pale imitation of their dreams. Her brothers, boisterous and cruel, delighted in making her feel invisible. And Adrian, her fiancé, a man more in love with her family's wealth than with her, treated her with a thinly veiled disdain. Yet, she loved them. Fiercely, unconditionally, foolishly. She’d spent her life trying to earn their affection, twisting herself into a pretzel to fit their expectations, only to be met with indifference or outright scorn. Now, with the clock ticking, Tiara realized she couldn't spend her last days chasing shadows. She couldn't waste precious time trying to win the hearts of those who seemed determined to keep her at arm's length. This wasn't about them anymore. This was about her. A flicker of defiance ignited within her. Two months was all she had, and she would use every second to paint her own masterpiece, to experience the joy she had always been denied. She would finally live for herself, a gift, a last act of self-love before the curtain fell. But what would they do, her cold, indifferent family, when they learned that the one person they consistently overlooked was about to disappear forever? Would they even care? Or would her absence finally bring them the peace they seemed to crave? The thought stung, but Tiara pushed it aside. Their reaction was no longer her concern. Her focus was on living, truly living, for the first time in her life. The question wasn't what they would do, but what she would do with the time she had left. And she intended to make it count.