Every autumn, two events that seem separate take place in the same month. October Rose highlights the personal, medical, and social realities of breast cancer. The Month of the Imaginary celebrates literature that challenges the boundaries of reality. Both events are united by a common gesture: the refusal to surrender or accept things as they are. In 1984, the Quebecer Christine L'Heureux wrote Le Dernier Recours, a novel about a researcher who modifies a flu virus to destroy cancerous cells. However, the experiment goes awry, affecting the uterus and threatening women of childbearing age. This story, like many works of science fiction, explores the tension between scientific progress and its unintended consequences. At the same time, A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness, based on an idea by Siobhan Dowd—who died of breast cancer—follows a 13-year-old boy whose mother is seriously ill. Each night, a monster in the shape of a yew tree visits him, telling stories and demanding the boy face truths he avoids. The book, illustrated by Jim Kay and translated by Bruno Krebs, raises questions about what science can change and what remains to be invented when science reaches its limits. A diagnosis is often seen as a word that locks the future, dictating appointments, treatments, and body transformations. Medicine works against this by detecting earlier, understanding better, and treating differently, but it does not deny reality—it refuses to let a diagnosis become a sentence. October Rose began as a movement to speak openly about a disease long surrounded by silence. In the United States, Breast Cancer Awareness Month started in 1985, with the pink ribbon becoming widely recognized in the 1990s. In France, the campaign Breast Cancer, Let's Talk About It! launched in 1994 and led to the creation of the organization now known as Ruban Rose. The Month of the Imaginary, which began in 2017, emerged from a movement to challenge the marginalization of science fiction, fantasy, and horror in literature. These genres, though popular, have often been relegated to the edges of critical discourse. While a disease affects bodies and disrupts lives, the recognition of literary works is another form of invisibility. Both, however, raise the same question: what do we do with what has been presented as an evidence? Who has the right to write the continuation? Literature of the imaginary does not simply offer escape—it pierces reality, questioning the consequences of discoveries, changing the rules of the world, and introducing the impossible into the everyday. The question "What if?" lies at the heart of these stories, challenging assumptions about bodies, power, and what is considered natural.