Here’s the plot, in a nutshell, of every Nicholas Sparks book I’ve ever read:
A lonely, disabled, or otherwise misunderstood (but generally maudlin) character finds an kindred spirit by some miracle of chance, and against all odds they fall in love and get to enjoy a fleeting moment of happiness together, until something terrible and unexpected happens to one of them, leaving the other to gaze wistfully and warmly remember the time they shared, usually somewhere in the vicinity of the Outer Banks.
There. I just saved you $19.95 and several hours of your life. No need to thank me.