chapter 11
1562 Words
Chapter 11– Let Me Live My Way
The morning sunlight filtered softly through the sheer curtains, painting golden stripes across the white sheets. Adrian stirred awake, his arm instinctively reaching across the bed. For a fleeting moment, his heart froze—Elena wasn’t there.
Then he felt her fingers graze his hair.
“I’m right here,” she whispered, her voice light but tired. She sat propped up against the headboard, still in the oversized T-shirt he had given her to sleep in. The faint smile on her lips tried to mask how pale she looked.
Adrian pushed himself upright, his chest tightening with the memory of last night—her sudden collapse, the way her body had gone limp in his arms, the terror that ripped through him as if he’d lost her already.
“You scared the life out of me, Elena,” he said, his voice rough. “We need to go back to the hospital. Today. No more excuses.”
Her smile faltered, but she reached out, cupping his cheek with her warm, trembling hand. “Adrian… I don’t want hospitals. Not every day. Not every moment. Please.”
His jaw clenched. He grabbed her hand, holding it tightly as if he could keep her anchored by sheer force of will. “You fainted. You coughed blood. You can’t just pretend it’s nothing—”
“I’m not pretending,” she cut in softly. Her eyes held his—dark, steady, though faint sadness shimmered beneath. “I know what’s happening to me. I know I’m not okay. But I don’t want to spend what’s left of my life in white rooms, hooked up to machines, listening to doctors tell me what I already know. I want mornings like this. With you. I want to laugh. To breathe outside air. To walk without IV lines holding me back.”
Adrian’s throat tightened. He turned his face, pressing her palm against his lips. “Elena… I can’t just sit here and watch you slip away.”
She leaned closer, resting her forehead against his. Her whisper was almost a plea. “Then don’t watch. Live with me. Please. Promise me.”
His eyes burned. He wanted to argue, to fight, to drag her to the best doctors in London, or even fly her across the world if that would save her. But the fragile stubbornness in her eyes—the quiet courage—broke something inside him.
At last, he nodded, though the word caught like glass in his throat. “I promise… but God, Elena, you’re asking me to watch you fall apart without doing a damn thing.”
Her lips curved into a sad little smile. “No, I’m asking you to hold me together until the very end.”
---
A half hour later, Adrian was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, clattering around like a man possessed. He never cooked—his assistants or takeout usually solved everything—but today he was determined.
Elena sat at the counter, chin propped in her palm, watching him with amusement.
“You know,” she teased, “if you were trying to seduce me, you could’ve just brought me roses. You didn’t have to nearly set the stove on fire.”
Adrian glared half-heartedly at the eggs that looked more scrambled than planned. “I’m making breakfast for my girlfriend. That’s called effort.”
She laughed, the sound so pure it made his chest ache. “You look too serious. Like you’re negotiating a billion-dollar contract instead of flipping an omelette.”
He placed the plate in front of her with exaggerated care. “There. Eat. Don’t complain. This might be the only meal I ever cook in my life.”
She picked up a fork, took a bite, and pretended to swoon dramatically. “Wow. Michelin star. Truly. I can die happy now.”
The words slipped out before she could stop them. Her fork stilled mid-air, her eyes flicking to him.
Adrian froze. Silence stretched between them.
Then Elena forced a playful grin, nudging his hand. “Relax. Bad joke. I’m not dying today.”
His chest ached as he forced a smile. “Not funny.”
But she reached for his hand across the counter, her grip small but firm. “See? This is what I mean. I don’t want us to be scared of words, or of moments. Let me laugh. Let me joke. Let me be me.”
---
By noon, Adrian took Elena out. She wore a light dress—ivory with little blue flowers—that made her look ethereal under the summer sun. Her long auburn hair framed her delicate face, though he couldn’t ignore the faint shadows under her eyes.
They walked slowly through Hyde Park, her hand nestled in his. Adrian kept glancing at her, terrified she’d stumble again.
“Stop hovering,” she teased. “You’re making me feel like an eighty-year-old lady with a bodyguard.”
“Then don’t look so breakable,” he muttered.
She stuck her tongue out at him, and for a moment, she looked like the Elena he’d first fallen for—the girl who could light up any room, who could turn his cold world warm.
They paused by the lake. Swans floated gracefully across the water. Children ran, laughing, chasing after kites. Elena sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“This is what I want,” she whispered. “Not endless scans or needles. Just… you. Me. Sunlight. Laughter.”
Adrian tightened his arm around her. “You deserve more than this. You deserve years, decades.”
She tilted her head, studying him with a soft, bittersweet expression. “Then give me decades in days. Fill me with so much love that time gets confused.”
His heart shattered at her words. He kissed her temple, inhaling the faint scent of her hair, as if he could memorize her into his bones.
---
Later, they found a quiet spot under a tree. Elena slipped off her shoes, curling her feet beneath her dress. The breeze carried strands of her hair across her face, and Adrian reached out, brushing them back.
“You’re staring again,” she teased softly.
“I can’t help it,” he said honestly. His voice was raw, unpolished. “Every second I look away feels wasted.”
Her lips parted, her breath catching. Slowly, Adrian cupped her face, his thumb grazing her cheek.
“Elena… I’m terrified,” he admitted, his forehead pressing to hers. “I can’t imagine waking up one day without you beside me. I can’t picture this world if you’re not in it.”
Her eyes glistened, but she smiled through it. “Then don’t picture it. Just picture today. Right now.”
His mouth found hers—urgent, desperate, filled with all the words he couldn’t say. She responded just as fiercely, her fingers tangling in his shirt, pulling him closer. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a battle against time, against fate.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, Elena’s voice was barely a whisper. “Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Don’t let my illness be the only thing you remember me for. Remember me like this. Alive. Laughing. Loving you.”
His throat closed up, but he nodded. “Always. God, Elena… always.”
---
The moment shattered when she suddenly coughed, her body trembling as she pressed a hand to her lips. Adrian panicked, holding her shoulders.
“Elena!”
She gasped, trying to steady her breath. A faint trace of red stained her palm before she quickly wiped it against the grass. “I’m fine. Just… a little dizzy.”
“Fine?” Adrian’s voice broke. “This is not fine. You’re—”
She pressed her trembling hand to his cheek, forcing him to look into her eyes. “Adrian. Listen to me. Don’t lock me in hospitals. Don’t smother me with treatments. Let me live free. That’s all I’m asking. Please.”
Tears burned in his eyes. He shook his head violently, but her gaze anchored him. Finally, his resistance crumbled. He pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair.
“Okay,” he whispered hoarsely. “Okay. But you’re killing me, Elena.”
Her lips curved into a fragile smile against his chest. “Then we’ll die together, a little every day, but happier than most people ever live.”
---
That night, Elena curled up in bed, her journal open on her lap. She scribbled words in neat, flowing handwriting:
If love could heal, Adrian’s would have cured me a thousand times over. But fate is cruel. All I can give him now are memories… memories so bright that maybe they’ll keep him warm when I can’t.
She closed the journal quickly when Adrian walked in, carrying tea. He didn’t ask what she was writing. He didn’t want to know. He only sat beside her, watching as she drifted to sleep against his chest.
Long after she slept, Adrian whispered into her hair, his hand stroking her back.
“If this is all the time we get… then I’ll love you so hard that even death won’t take you from me.”
His tears slipped silently onto her hair, but she never stirred.
---
- Writer
