chapter 12
1241 Words
Chapter 12– When Forever Feels Too Short
Elena’s POV
The morning sunlight fell across the room in soft golden streaks. I opened my eyes slowly, already feeling the weight in my chest before my body even moved. A dull ache spread through my ribs, and my breathing felt heavy, like the air itself didn’t want to enter my lungs.
And then I felt it—his hand.
Adrian’s arm was wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him even in his sleep. His face was buried in my hair, his breathing calm, like holding me close was the only way he could rest.
For a moment, I forgot everything. The illness. The fear. The nights of hidden pain. All I felt was him.
I turned carefully to face him. His dark lashes rested against his skin, his lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling slowly. Adrian looked so peaceful, so breakable in this moment, that guilt stabbed me deep inside. He loved me too much. And I was going to leave him behind.
My throat tightened. I wanted to cry, but instead I reached out and traced his jaw with trembling fingers. He stirred, his eyes opening instantly like he had never been asleep at all.
“Elena,” he whispered, his voice rough with sleep. “Are you okay?”
I forced a smile. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t believe me. He never did.
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Adrian’s POV
Her smile broke me. She tried so hard to hide the truth, but her eyes betrayed her. That glassy shine, the faint blue shadows under her lashes, the fragility in her breathing—I saw all of it.
“Elena,” I murmured, brushing her hair back. “Tell me the truth.”
She shook her head stubbornly, slipping her small hand into mine. “Don’t ruin the morning. Just hold me.”
So I did. I pulled her into my arms and kissed her forehead, silently begging whatever cruel fate was tearing her away from me to stop.
But I couldn’t just sit and watch. I had spoken to her doctor last night. The words still rang in my head. She’s deteriorating. Aggressive treatment could prolong her life, but she refuses.
Refuses.
She wanted to die on her terms, not in white hospital walls. And I couldn’t decide if that made me admire her or want to scream at her.
“Elena,” I said, my voice breaking without permission, “promise me you’ll fight. For me.”
Her eyes filled with tears instantly. She touched my face gently, her thumb brushing my cheekbone. “Adrian… don’t you see? I am fighting. Every time I smile for you. Every time I try to live one more moment instead of counting the moments I’m losing.”
Her words shattered me.
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I couldn’t watch her fading inside these four walls. So I took her out.
The sky was painted orange and purple when we walked down the path by the river. I kept her hand locked in mine, terrified she would slip, terrified she would fall. People passed us—couples laughing, kids playing—but the world around me blurred.
The only thing I saw was her.
“Elena,” I said softly, breaking the silence, “do you remember the first time I kissed you here?”
Her lips curved into a faint smile. “How could I forget? You were nervous. Your hands were shaking.”
I chuckled under my breath. “I thought you’d laugh at me.”
“I did,” she admitted, leaning against my arm. “But then I kissed you back.”
We both laughed softly, but the sound was heavy with memory. I stopped walking and turned to her, brushing my thumb against her lips.
“Elena…” My voice dropped, almost trembling. “I don’t care if I only have days left with you. I’ll spend every second proving how much I love you.”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she pulled me down to her and kissed me—hard, desperate, like she was trying to carve herself into me forever. My arms wrapped around her instantly, crushing her against me as the world disappeared.
Her lips trembled against mine, but the passion in her kiss made my heart race like it was our first time all over again. She clung to me, and when we finally broke apart, she whispered against my lips, “Every moment with you feels like forever.”
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We walked slowly back, my arm around her shoulders, when suddenly her steps faltered.
“Elena?”
Her face went pale, her body sagged against me, and before I could react she collapsed.
“Elena!”
Panic tore through me as I caught her, lifting her into my arms. People around gasped, some rushed closer, but I couldn’t hear them. I carried her through the crowd, my chest burning with fear, my throat tight.
She stirred weakly, her voice barely a whisper. “Adrian…”
“I’m here, love. I’ve got you.”
Her hand gripped my shirt weakly. “Promise me… you won’t waste my last days in hospitals…”
Tears blurred my vision. My voice cracked. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that.”
“Promise me,” she begged, her eyes desperate.
I pressed my forehead to hers, sobbing silently. “I promise… but only because I can’t say no to you. Not because I’m ready to lose you.”
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Back home, I laid her gently on the bed. She looked so fragile, like porcelain that could c***k with the wrong touch. I sat beside her, holding her hand, unable to stop my tears.
“Adrian,” she whispered, her voice raw, “I’m scared too.”
I froze. She had never admitted that before.
“I pretend I’m strong,” she continued, “but at night… when you fall asleep… I cry because I don’t want to leave you.”
Her honesty shattered the last of my strength. I leaned down and kissed her, slow at first, then deeper, bolder, pouring all of my fear and love into her. She kissed me back, her fingers tangled in my hair, her tears mixing with mine.
“I don’t care if the world ends tomorrow,” I whispered against her lips. “I’m yours. Every breath, every heartbeat, every moment—yours.”
We clung to each other like drowning souls, desperate to steal as much love as possible from the time we had left. It was bold, it was deep, it was heartbreak and passion tangled into one.
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Adrian’s POV – The Journal
Later, when she finally fell asleep against my chest, I noticed a small leather book half-hidden under her pillow.
Her journal.
I hesitated, guilt burning me. But when I saw her handwriting, I couldn’t stop myself. My fingers flipped the page, and the last line stabbed me straight through the heart:
“One day he will hold only my memory, not me.”
My vision blurred with tears. I looked down at her peaceful sleeping face, and my chest felt like it was breaking open.
I bent close, my lips brushing her hair. “I won’t let you go, Elena. Not like this. Not ever.”
The promise tasted like blood in my mouth, because deep down I knew—I was already losing her.
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- Writer
