“It’s not going to get any better than this. The odds are I’m only going to get increasingly unwell and my life, reduced as it is, is going to get smaller. The doctors have said as much. There are a host of conditions encroaching on me. I can feel it. I don’t want to be in pain anymore, or trapped in this thing, or dependent on everyone, or afraid. So I’m asking you—if you feel the things you say you feel—then do it. Be with me. Give me the end I’m hoping for.” I looked at him in horror, my blood thumping in my ears. I could barely take it in. “How can you ask me that?” “I know, it’s—” “I tell you I love you and I want to build a future with you, and you ask me to come and watch you kill yourself?” “I’m sorry. I don’t mean it to sound blunt. But I haven’t got the luxury of time.” From the book " Me before You " by Jojo Moyes