The heart-wrenching TikTok sensation about a group of terminally ill patients who vow to live the rest of their lives to the fullest and find a love that transforms and transcends.

Against the unforgiving landscape of a hospital, a group of terminally ill patients embraces the joys within their friendship, freedom, rebellion. Each in their own way is broken; each in their own way is stronger for it.

In the midst of pain and loss, they find community, even miracles, and together they are determined to reclaim from life what illness has taken from them. But a singular heartbreak has led one to swear off love forever. The risk of experiencing another tragedy feels too great. Yet, in this desolate place where it seems impossible for love to make an appearance, a door opens—and so do hearts.

This book was everywhere a couple of years ago. I couldn’t scroll through my feed without seeing gushy praise and crying reaction videos. It was the kind of hype storm that makes a book hard to ignore, so naturally, I bought it. And then, like many hyped books before it, it sat on my shelf collecting dust, until my two goddaughters insisted I finally read it.

They were so excited for me to love it. Unfortunately, I didn’t.

Now, to be clear, I didn’t hate the book. There are definitely moments that stand out, and a few lines hit pretty hard. But overall, the book just didn’t land for me the way it clearly did for so many others.

The story centers on a group of terminally ill teens living in a hospital who’ve vowed to live their final days with passion, rebellion, and meaning. It’s a powerful premise, and I understand why it resonated with its target audience, especially younger readers who are drawn to tragic romance and big, dramatic emotions. The book delivers that in spades. Every page is drenched in pain and longing and heartbreak. There are moments of beauty and solidarity among the characters, and the sense of found family is definitely a highlight. But for me, it was missing the subtle shades that make those themes hit harder.

I have to say that I’m not immune to a sad book. In fact, I love a sad book when it’s done well. Sometimes I actively seek out a gut-wrenching read just to crack myself open and powerwash my soul to remind myself that I’m still alive. But with this one, I felt like the only goal was to make the reader cry. The emotional weight didn’t feel earned, it felt engineered. It was like the author tried too hard, and in doing so, only hit a single note.

I also found the characters a bit underdeveloped. They each have a defining trait or tragedy, but I wanted more personality beyond their pain. The relationships between them, while clearly meant to feel deep and intense, didn’t always land with the authenticity I craved. Honestly, they all felt like the same character to me, and I never really cared about any of them.

All of that said, I completely understand why this book hit a nerve with so many people. For younger readers, especially teens navigating their own emotional storms, I’m sure the book offers a kind of catharsis that feels big and meaningful. It’s dramatic, poetic, and romantic in that way only teenage heartbreak can be. I don’t think it’s a bad book, I just don’t think it was for me.

And that’s okay. Not every book has to be. While many “fell in love with hope” I, obviously. did not. If you’re looking for something overflowing with sadness and angst, this might be your next read. Just know what you’re getting into.

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