chapter 16
1180 Words
Chapter 16 – The Sketch of Love
The hospital garden was quiet that evening. The sky above London carried strokes of dusky pink and fading gold, as though nature itself had taken out its brush to paint one last masterpiece before nightfall. Adrian wheeled Elena gently across the tiled path, his hand steady on the handles of her chair.
“You’ve been cooped up inside for days,” he said softly, bending forward so his breath warmed her cheek. “I thought you deserved some air… and maybe a view prettier than those dull white walls.”
Elena tilted her head back, her pale skin catching the tender light of sunset. “This is beautiful,” she whispered, her voice fragile yet filled with wonder. “But you know what’s prettier than this?”
Adrian smirked, leaning down to meet her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re about to say me again.”
Her lips curved into the faintest smile. “Always you.”
Adrian’s chest tightened. He kissed the top of her hair gently, letting silence speak for them as the leaves rustled in the faint evening breeze.
Then Elena fumbled with something in her lap. Adrian looked down and noticed a small leather-bound sketchbook resting on her knees, along with a few well-worn pencils she had insisted on keeping at her bedside.
“You brought this?” Adrian asked, brushing his thumb over the smooth cover.
Elena nodded, her fingers trembling as she opened to a blank page. “I want to sketch you.”
Adrian chuckled softly. “Me?”
“Yes.” Her eyes, though tired, shimmered with determination. “Sit for me, Adrian. Let me capture you before…” Her voice faltered, but she forced herself to continue. “Before time slips away again.”
The words pierced him like glass. For a moment he wanted to refuse, to banish the thought of her speaking as if her days were numbered. But the hope in her eyes anchored him. He sighed, crouched before her, and touched her hand.
“Alright, love,” he murmured. “Sketch me. But only if you promise not to leave out how madly I look at you.”
Her lips twitched into a smile. “Then don’t look away.”
---
Adrian sat on the bench across from her, posture relaxed, though his heart hammered inside his chest. Elena sharpened her pencil with shaky fingers, her concentration deep, her brows furrowed like a little artist protecting her craft.
Every so often, she glanced up at him, her gaze lingering on his jawline, then tracing down to his lips. She would sketch a line, pause, then look again as though memorising.
“You’re staring too much,” Adrian teased, smirking. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll forget you’re sketching and kiss you instead.”
Her cheeks flushed instantly. “Stay still!” she scolded lightly, her voice breaking into shy laughter. “You’re ruining my focus.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Adrian whispered, leaning forward, “I’d happily ruin your focus every day.”
She bit her lip, her pencil slipping slightly on the page. “Stop making me nervous.”
“I thought I made you inspired.”
“You make me both,” she admitted softly, eyes glimmering with truth.
---
Minutes stretched. Adrian stayed quiet now, letting her draw. He watched her instead — the way her hair fell over her face as she bent forward, how her frail hands steadied themselves despite trembling, how she paused just to take in his features like she was storing them forever.
At one point, her hand lifted as if uncertain, and she reached out to lightly trace the curve of his cheek with her fingertips. Adrian’s skin burned where her touch lingered.
“Needed to compare the angles,” she said innocently, though her blush betrayed her.
“Or maybe,” Adrian teased, lowering his voice, “you just wanted an excuse to touch me.”
She looked down quickly, pretending to draw again, but her smile gave her away.
---
When she finally laid her pencil down, nearly an hour had passed. Adrian stood and moved behind her, leaning over her shoulder.
“Can I see?” he asked.
Elena hesitated before slowly tilting the book toward him.
Adrian’s breath caught.
It was his face — strong jawline, sharp brows, messy hair — but there was more. In her drawing, his eyes were filled with light, brighter than any he had ever seen in a mirror. She had sketched him not as a man, but as she saw him: her protector, her safe place, her love.
“Elena…” His throat tightened. “This—this is how you see me?”
She smiled weakly, her fingers brushing the page. “Yes. You’re my light, Adrian. Even when the pain is unbearable, I see you shining through it. And I… I wanted to keep that glow on paper.”
Adrian blinked back tears. He cupped her face gently, forcing her eyes to stay on him.
“No, Elena. You’re wrong.” His voice shook with emotion. “You’re the light. This sketch—” he tapped the page with his free hand— “isn’t me. It’s you, bleeding through my reflection. You’ve turned me into your canvas. And now…” He bent closer until their lips almost brushed. “Now you’re my masterpiece.”
Elena’s breath hitched as his mouth claimed hers. The kiss was deep, slow, trembling with all the words they could never fit into sentences. His lips pressed warmth and desperation into hers, his hand steady against her fragile jaw. She clung to him, sketchbook nearly slipping from her lap.
When they parted, tears shimmered in both their eyes.
“I’m scared,” Elena whispered, her fingers curling into his shirt. “What if I don’t live long enough to paint you in colors?”
Adrian shook his head fiercely. “Don’t you dare talk like that. As long as I breathe, I’ll carry every stroke of your art, every shade of your love. Whether it’s on canvas, in memory, or on my skin—I’ll never let you fade.”
Her tears slipped silently down her cheeks. Adrian kissed each one away, whispering, “Mine. Always mine.”
---
Night deepened around them. Adrian lifted Elena carefully into his arms, refusing the chair now. She rested her head against his chest, sketchbook clutched tight.
“Keep it safe,” she murmured drowsily.
“I’ll guard it with my life,” he promised, kissing her temple.
As he carried her back inside, her eyes fluttered closed. Adrian felt the weight of her breathing, fragile but steady, against him.
He pressed his lips to her hair and whispered into the night,
“You’re not leaving me, Elena. Not now, not ever. Even if fate tries, I’ll fight it.”
And with her sketch of him pressed between them like a vow, Adrian held on as if love itself could bend time.
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- Writer
