⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 5 stars

Life has not been gentle with high school senior Sydney. She’s lost her grandmother, lost her mother, and in a way, lost her father too — he’s never been the same since his wife died. Death has taken so much from her already. But it’s also never left her alone: Sydney can see when a person is about to die. Bright, neon pink clocks mark the final 72 hours of their life, a countdown she can’t look away from and can’t escape.

There is a scene early on — young Sydney, talking with her grandmother, learning that her grandmother saw the clocks too, back when she was in a concentration camp during the war — that knocked the wind out of me. I can’t imagine the sheer number of clocks a person would have seen in a place like that. It’s the kind of detail that recontextualizes everything that comes after it.

That constant shadow of death has pushed Sydney to the sidelines of her own life. She’s more spectator than participant, cataloging the lives she watches click away, living by a strict set of rules built to keep her at a safe distance from feeling any of it too closely.

And then she meets Peter.

He’s the new kid in town, and he sees something too — he sees her. As hard as Sydney tries to ignore him, Peter is persistent, in the most earnest, honest, observant way. Observant enough that he figures out her secret. And once he knows, he can’t just let it go — he sees the grief and fear and helplessness she’s carrying, and it eats at him. He’s determined to help her see those neon clocks in a different light.

The writing itself is sharp — witty, funny, evocative, and never precious about it. Peter, on paper, should have been too much: too serious for a teenager, too well-read, too neatly written to be believable. Instead, the author gives him such genuine charisma that he simply works. He and Sydney shouldn’t work together either — their personalities are too disparate, their common ground too narrow — and yet their connection unfolds with so much elegance that by the time you’re fully in it, it feels inevitable.

I knew, going in, that this wasn’t going to end happily — the cover and the description both told me that much. Knowing didn’t help. When the moment came, it was brutal — a kick in the throat that stole my breath and brought me to tears. And it wasn’t just that one scene. Everything that unfolds afterward is beautifully crafted, exceptional in its detail, and devastating page by page.

I ugly-cried through the final chapters. My heart was already a little raw from Alchemised, and this one found the same bruise and pressed right into it — and yet I’m so grateful for the story anyway. It’s the kind of book that earns every tear it takes from you.

P.S. — Someone, please, hand me a mystery. A comedy. Anything that won’t leave me broken-hearted for a third book in a row.

I received an advance copy of this book from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This post also contains a Bookshop.org affiliate link, which means I may earn a small commission if you make a purchase — at no extra cost to you.