chapter 14
1323 Words
Chapter 14– Hope in the Shadows
The early light crept through the curtains, spilling across the wooden floorboards like liquid gold. Adrian stirred awake, his hand instinctively searching the bed beside him. Cold sheets. Empty. His heart skipped before his eyes focused.
Elena sat at the far end of the room, hair tumbling over her shoulder like spilled ink, a brush in her trembling hand. A canvas stood before her, half-filled with colours that bled into one another in soft, chaotic beauty.
Adrian pushed the blanket aside. “Elena,” his voice was still thick with sleep, “what are you doing up so early?”
She turned, guilty, her smile too quick. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d… paint a little.”
He walked over, bare feet silent against the floor. The brush in her fingers wobbled, her wrist shaking. He caught it before it slipped.
“You can barely hold this,” he whispered, more pained than angry. “Why do you keep pushing yourself?”
She looked down, her lashes trembling. “Because time is slipping, Adrian. I don’t want to waste it lying in bed when I could be leaving pieces of myself behind.”
His chest tightened. “Don’t talk like that.”
“It’s the truth.” She finally met his eyes. “These canvases… they’ll stay when I’m gone. Passion was fire. This one—” she gestured to the half-painted piece, where strokes of yellow broke through deep shadows, “—this one is light. Hope. I want to leave you hope.”
He set the brush aside, cupping her cold fingers. “I don’t want your paintings if it means watching you destroy yourself.”
Her lips curved softly. “Then take both—me and my art—until you can’t anymore.”
Adrian bent, pressing his forehead against hers, unable to stop the storm inside him. “You think I can just… prepare for you not being here? I can’t, Elena. I won’t.”
A silence stretched, filled with the sound of her shallow breaths. Then she whispered, “Take me outside. I want to feel the garden today.”
---
The air outside was crisp, the sky brushed with morning blue. Adrian held her hand as if she were made of glass, his other arm steady around her waist. Every few steps she faltered, leaning heavily on him, but she smiled as if the weakness was nothing.
“See?” she teased, pointing at the blooming roses. “Even they look jealous of us.”
He glanced at her sideways. “Jealous?”
“Mmm.” She tilted her head dramatically. “They see you holding me, looking at me like I’m the only thing alive in this world. Poor roses. How can they compete?”
Adrian’s lips twitched despite the ache in his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet,” she said, squeezing his hand, “you love me for it.”
He stopped walking, staring down at her with eyes that burned. “I love you for everything. For your ridiculousness, your stubbornness, your colours, your flaws. I love you in ways that terrify me.”
Her smile trembled. She lifted her free hand to his cheek. “Then don’t be afraid. Love me while I’m here.”
The words cut, sharp and soft all at once. He kissed her palm, his voice breaking. “I’ll love you long after you’re not.”
---
They reached the old stone bench, shaded by a tree heavy with blossoms. Adrian lowered her onto it carefully, as if even the stone might bruise her.
She leaned back, eyes half-closed. “The sun feels good.”
But his gaze was only on her. The pale skin, the tiredness under her eyes, the fragility that made his heart scream. He couldn’t hold back.
“Elena,” he whispered, leaning down.
Her lashes fluttered. “Yes?”
His lips claimed hers. Slow at first, almost reverent. Then deeper, fiercer, as though he could kiss away the disease itself. She clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer, answering with equal fire despite her weakness.
When they finally broke apart, she coughed, breath catching violently. Adrian panicked, holding her upright, his hands framing her face. “Breathe, sweetheart. Please. Don’t do this to me.”
She exhaled shakily, leaning into him. “I’m okay. Just… don’t stop kissing me because of it.”
“Elena—”
“I mean it,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his jaw, his neck. “Don’t treat me like I’m fading. Treat me like I’m alive.”
His throat worked, torn between fear and desire. He gathered her close again, his kiss this time desperate and protective, his hand sliding through her hair as if memorising every strand.
---
Later, when her breathing calmed, she touched the canvas she’d insisted on bringing outside.
“This one,” she said softly, “is yours.”
Adrian frowned. “You don’t have to give me every painting.”
“I do.” She smiled faintly. “Passion was fire. But this one is different. Hope is the light you’ll carry when… when you can’t carry me anymore.”
His chest constricted. “Stop saying things like that.”
She shook her head, eyes shining. “Adrian, listen. Passion burns. But hope—it stays. It’s what will keep you alive after me.”
He clenched his fists, angry at the universe, at fate, at everything that dared to steal her. “There is no after you. Don’t you understand? If you go, I’ll go with you.”
Her eyes welled with tears, but her voice was steady. “Then let’s hope together. For as long as we can.”
He couldn’t hold back anymore. His tears slipped, raw and unashamed. She reached up, brushing them away with trembling fingers. “My strong Adrian,” she whispered. “Even broken, you’re the strongest man I know.”
---
That night, candles flickered in their room, shadows dancing on the walls. Elena lay in bed, her head resting against Adrian’s chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
“Do you hear that?” she murmured.
“Hear what?”
“Your heart. It’s too loud. Like it’s afraid of losing me.”
He tightened his arm around her. “It should be afraid. I don’t know how to survive without you.”
Her hand slid slowly down his chest, over the lines of muscle, lingering as if memorising. “Then don’t survive. Live. Live with me now. Right here.”
Adrian swallowed, his body rigid with emotion. “Elena—”
“I don’t want pity, Adrian,” she whispered fiercely. “I want to feel alive. I want to remember what it’s like to be loved, to be desired, to be yours.”
Her boldness undid him. He turned, cradling her face in his hands. “You are mine. Always.”
Their kiss deepened, no longer gentle but raw, urgent. His hands traced her fragile frame, holding her close, terrified yet unable to stop. She answered with equal hunger, her body trembling under his touch but her soul burning bright.
“Don’t let go,” she whispered against his lips.
“Never,” he swore, his voice breaking.
The night wrapped around them, filled with passion, tears, and the aching beauty of two souls clinging to each other in the shadow of time.
---
Hours later, Elena finally drifted into sleep, her breathing soft against his chest. Adrian stared at the painting Hope, propped against the wall, glowing faintly in the candlelight.
He pressed his lips to her hair and whispered into the silence:
“If I must burn with you, I will. But I’ll never let your light die.”
And with that vow, he held her tighter, as if he could shield her from fate itself.
---
- Writer
