chapter 18
1331 Words
Chapter 18– The Shattering Silence
The morning light slipped gently through the hospital blinds, spilling across the pale sheets where Elena lay sleeping. Adrian had never been more aware of silence in his life. It wasn’t the soft, soothing silence of peace. It was the kind of silence that made him sit upright, hold his breath, and study every rise and fall of her chest like it was the only sound that mattered.
Her breathing was steady now — light, fragile, like a whisper trying to cling to existence. He hadn’t closed his eyes all night. His hand was still wrapped around hers, his thumb brushing circles over her knuckles as though that motion alone would keep her tethered here with him.
Elena stirred, her lashes fluttering against her pale cheeks. “You’re still awake,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but touched with a smile.
“I wasn’t going to risk missing a second,” Adrian said, his lips curving faintly though his heart felt heavy. “Besides, you hog the blanket when you sleep. Someone had to keep watch.”
Her laugh was soft, a sound that filled his veins with warmth. “I don’t hog anything.”
“You hog everything,” he murmured, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers. He wanted to memorize this — the curve of her lips when she smiled, the sleepy glow in her eyes, the little roll of her eyes when she teased him back.
He kissed her softly, lingering, trying to burn the taste of her into his soul. She let herself sink against him, her frail hands rising to rest against his chest. For a few moments, the world was simple again. Just them. No illness. No fear. Only love.
But life, Adrian realized too late, never stayed kind for long.
---
Elena tried to sit up. “Help me, I want to see the garden again.”
Adrian slipped an arm around her, careful and gentle, but as soon as she lifted herself from the pillows, her body stiffened. A harsh cough tore through her chest. One cough. Then another. Then another.
“Elena?” His voice was sharp now, laced with panic. He cupped her shoulders, trying to steady her, but the sound coming from her lungs was wrong. Ragged. Violent. She leaned forward suddenly, her whole frame shaking, and crimson drops spilled against the white hospital sheet.
Adrian froze. For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Blood.
Then his voice broke like thunder. “HELP! Somebody help!”
The door burst open almost instantly, nurses rushing in, machines wheeled close. Adrian tried to hold her, tried to keep her upright, but strong hands pulled him away.
“No—no, I’m not leaving her!” he shouted, struggling against them. “Elena, look at me—stay with me, please—”
But the chaos swallowed his words. Oxygen masks, needles, voices rising over one another. He could only see glimpses of her face between the bodies — pale, lips stained red, eyes rolling weakly as she fought for air.
“Sir, please step back!” one nurse ordered, but Adrian’s knees refused to move. It took two staff members to drag him toward the hall. He clawed at the doorframe, his throat raw.
“Elena!”
The door shut in his face.
And the silence came again.
---
He pressed his back to the cold wall outside her room, chest heaving like he’d run a marathon. His palms were streaked with her blood, staining the lines of his hands, searing into his skin like fire. He stared at them, trembling.
She was slipping.
And he was powerless.
Adrian’s vision blurred as he squeezed his fists shut. He hadn’t cried since his father’s funeral years ago, but now tears forced their way down his face. He buried his head in his hands, his voice breaking against his palms.
“Please… please don’t take her. Not her. Take anything else. Just not her.”
His knees gave out, and he slid to the floor. In the middle of that sterile hallway, with machines beeping behind closed doors, Adrian felt his world cave in.
When he finally lifted his gaze, his eyes fell on something sitting on the chair beside him — her sketchbook. She must have left it there last night. With trembling fingers, he picked it up and flipped through the pages.
There she was, over and over again — Elena’s drawings of him. His smile, his profile, the way he leaned against a chair, the way he looked when he thought no one was watching. And her favorite — the unfinished sketch of his eyes.
The pencil strokes were uneven in some places, as though she’d paused to cough, but the love behind them screamed through every line.
His throat tightened. He pressed the sketchbook to his chest, closing his eyes.
If he lost her, he knew he’d never recover. She wasn’t just his love. She was his life, his anchor, his only reason to breathe.
---
It felt like hours before the door finally opened. A doctor stepped out, his face grave but calm.
“She’s stable… for now,” he said carefully. “The disease is progressing faster than we anticipated. You should prepare yourself—”
Adrian cut him off, his jaw steel. “No. Don’t tell me to prepare for her death. Just keep her breathing. That’s your job. Mine is keeping her alive in every way that matters.”
The doctor only nodded with tired eyes and left him.
Adrian pushed into the room.
She lay there again, pale and fragile, but alive. Tubes ran from her nose, her chest rising shallowly. When she turned her head slightly and saw him, the faintest smile curved her lips.
“See? Still here…” she whispered.
That broke him. Adrian strode to her side, dropping to his knees, taking her hand and kissing every knuckle. Tears slipped down his face unchecked. “Don’t you ever do that again. You scared me to death, Elena.”
“I… didn’t mean to,” she rasped. Her eyes softened, tracing the desperation in his face. “Don’t cry, Adrian. You’ll make me feel guilty.”
“Good. Feel guilty. Maybe then you’ll fight harder,” he choked out, pressing his forehead against her palm.
She weakly brushed his tears with her thumb. “You’ve always been my fighter.”
Adrian lifted his face and kissed her. Not softly, not cautiously — but desperately, like a drowning man clinging to the last pocket of air. She responded faintly, but her lips trembled against his, fragile and human and beautiful.
When he pulled back, his voice was raw. “You’re my forever, Elena. Even if forever is too short. I don’t care how little time we get. Every second with you is worth a lifetime.”
Her eyes filled, and she whispered, “Then promise me… no matter what happens… you’ll remember me happy, not like this.”
“I’ll remember every version of you,” Adrian said, his hand cradling her face. “The girl who laughed too loud, who painted storms and sunsets, who made me believe in love again. That’s who you’ll always be.”
---
Night fell again. Machines hummed steadily, and Elena drifted in and out of shallow sleep. But Adrian didn’t close his eyes once.
He sat beside her, her hand in his, watching every breath, every shift of her chest. He memorized the way the moonlight fell across her face, making her look both like a ghost and an angel.
His lips brushed her hair as he whispered into the silence:
“You’re my forever, Elena. Even if forever is too short. And I swear… I’ll never let you face the dark alone.”
And in that fragile, heartbreaking quiet, Adrian kept his vigil — the man who had everything but felt like nothing without her.
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- Writer
