Chapter 35
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
Nothing else matters beyond the woman in my arms, her body trembling with fear.
I clutch her tight, cutting off some of her air, but she doesn’t seem to mind, burying herself in my embrace as she has been my heart these last few months.
“Elijah,” she says between choked sobs. My chest aches, the urge to rub my palm over the sore spot growing fiercer with every passing second.
“Yes, sweetheart?” I whisper into her hair, sucking in deep breaths of shared oxygen, binding myself to her in any way I can—something to hold on to if the day ever comes that steals her away from me.
“It’s not gone yet. I have to do the chemo all over again.” She hiccups around the words, her body revolting against the news she’d received.
My heart plummets. Guilt settles heavily in my chest for letting her talk me out of going with her this morning. I’d wanted to respect her wishes, but now I regret not pushing the issue further.
I run a palm over her head, pushing her hair out of her face as she shatters in my arms, her knees buckling, unable to hold herself up.
“You’ve been so strong, Adhira,” I remind her. “So bloody strong. But it’s okay to fall apart sometimes.”
Her trembling limbs steady, and she peers up at me with tear-stained cheeks, puffy red eyes, and so much trust it kills me, anguish bubbling over from the basin at the surface of my soul. “I’m tired, Elijah,” she whispers.
“I know, sweetheart. I can only imagine.”
“I’m tired of being so goddamn strong all the time,” she says, lips quivering, tears spilling over, and another sob tears from her throat. My body moves on instinct alone as I slide my hands down her waist, tugging her up against me before carrying her to bed.
I settle in behind her, dragging her covers over us. Steeling the barrier between my heart and mind, I hold firm, focusing on her needs above all else. There’ll be plenty of time for me to fall apart, but only after Adhira has wrung every tear from the chasm of her waterlogged spirit.
Time crawls by, Adhira’s sobs melting into quiet, trembling whimpers, followed by a painful silence that slices me in two, but I don’t dare move until she asks me for water and pain medication for her headache.
When she’s fallen asleep, her soft snores act as a reminder that she’s still here, anchoring my fractured pieces into place. I slip out of bed and walk on silent feet to her door. It creaks open, a thin stream of light slicing across her face. Her lashes flutter, lids lifting as her eyes meet mine.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to wake you,” I whisper. “Go back to sleep.”
“Stay with me?” she asks, and I have to fight myself, knowing I’m no good to her like this.
“I’m just hopping in the shower. I’ll be right back.”
“Promise?” she asks, letting herself be vulnerable with me in a way I’ve never seen before, her walls washed away with her tears—at least for now.
“I promise.”
She nods, rolling onto her other side, slinging a leg over her body pillow and tugging it close as she settles back down, her eyes drifting shut.
I go through the motions of feeding myself, sending a quick message to Mum to explain why I missed the girls’ call earlier. Her reply is immediate, reminding me to take care of myself, too, likely remembering all the times I hadn’t.
I chug a glass of water, grab a pair of joggers, and slip into the bathroom, tugging my clothes off and stepping into the hot stream.
The water is scalding, painful in a way that lets me feel something other than the gnawing emptiness I’ve given myself over to in an effort to preserve my sanity—while Adhira did what I’ve asked her to do all along: let me in.
I stand there far too long, the water eventually growing cold.
I drop to my knees on the smooth acrylic beneath me, the sting of pain no match for the flood of emotion ripping through me, my heart beating in an unsteady rhythm.
My sobs are drowned out by the pelting water slapping against the hard floor, and I fall forward onto my palms, getting lost beneath the weight of my anguish.
She could die.
She could leave me here, walking this earth with nothing but the memory of her to carry me through, dragging me back to a world where I’d felt so alone in a room full of people.
It’s selfish.
These thoughts are not mine to dwell on, but they’re real and raw, and I can’t contain them. Better to release them here than to carry them with me, tainting whatever time we might have left.
But what if she lives?
The better, more optimistic part of my brain battles to breathe life back into me, centring my thoughts around showing her how she makes me feel, on bettering her life as she has mine, on giving her the strength to keep fighting when her stores have run dry.
For Adhira Shah, I’ll make every moment from here on out worthy of her time, and I’ll show her how to do it without getting lost in the fray myself.
Time ticks by, my chest heaving, chills racing through me, goose bumps littering my skin, until my tears run dry. Only once I know I don’t have a single tear left in my body do I push myself up, shut off the water, and get ready for bed, returning to Adhira as promised.