The Lullaby Nights

♥ 6

NINA

The door reopened. Neil patted my hand and left the room, allowing Harley to reinstate his place.

I couldn't help but notice how red his eyes had turned. The stains on his cheeks became more vivid and defined as the sun bathed his face in its pale light.

I looked at him as he approached my bed. His steps were so tentative they left me at a loss for words. What could I tell him? Nine days at most. Even I, the girl who'd been stuck in this bed for months, couldn't digest this information. Yes, I knew I was getting worse. The signs were as obvious as the bruises that recurred on my skin.

Most days, I felt weak and drowsy. My joints and head hurt beyond imagination. I felt so sick I couldn't eat, but even without the nausea, I wasn't overly interested in food. Yet I'd thought I'd stick around for a tad longer.

For him.

For my parents.

Neither of them deserved to lose me so soon.

Harley latched his hand on the chair and eventually took a seat. His gaze fell on mine, but only for a moment because he couldn't bear it. He dissolved into tears yet held my dejected stare with bravery.

'I can't lose you.' The sob that escaped his mouth made his voice unsteady. 'Not you, Nina. Just not you.' He snivelled, gripping my hand in such a desperate manner, as though it was the hand of someone whose forgiveness could save me.

I examined his trembling chin and the tears that raced down his already wetted cheeks. It made my chest heavy. My breath staggered before I had fallen to pieces.

I'm dying.

Finally, it hit me. The realisation that I would die at the age of eighteen. I'd never go to a club. I'd never go swimming or make love to Harley again. My chances of ever having children had all but vanished. I wouldn't be here. I was going to die.

My teeth chattered as I strived to fight another round of tears. I lost that battle. They ran regardless, heavy and scalding, making me remember how much I'd missed the warmth that my body could no longer radiate. Leukaemia had ruined my blood circulation, so my skin was always cold and eminently pale.

I drew in a shaky breath and reached for Harley's hand. 'Don't cry, babe. It's going to be okay.' Those words cost me more than I had imagined. A bullet to my chest wouldn't have hurt as much. 'You've got a whole life ahead of—'

'Please, stop.' He let out an awful cry. 'Don't talk about my future if you won't be part of it.' His lips formed into a thin line. He looked ahead, as if he believed that staring at the snow could freeze the tears he couldn't stop from falling.

I swallowed hard. The awareness of dying was excruciating but seeing him this desolate was much worse. Even with the tears rolling down his cheeks, he looked downright handsome. I knew many people would disagree with me. Harley wasn't the stereotypical teenager girls would kill for. He was rather slender, with facial features that wouldn't fit into this modern, Hollywood-made world. In my universe, however, he was the star.

I always loved his eyes. There was something so refreshing about their lime colour. Despite the circumstances, they still looked radiant. The sun that spilled into the room only enhanced their beauty.

His caramel hair, since I remembered, had never been longer than an inch. He'd said he didn't have the patience to maintain a perfect coiffure. He didn't need it, anyway. I liked him just the way he was.

When I first met him, he was already slim, but as he grew older and taller, his body thinned in size even more. It never bothered me. In fact, I was quite happy about it. At least I could call him a stilt-walker each time he compared me to a jack-o'-lantern. He might have thrown me over his shoulder a few times as punishment, but I loved it.

Lately, however, his sense of humour had become dormant. It felt as if the cancer was annihilating not only me but also Harley's happiness. It had been extremely difficult and prostrating nine months.

Nine months. I couldn't believe how quickly they'd turned into nine days. I couldn't complain, though. My tragedy had a silver lining, after all.

Most patients with AML survived only four to six months before Death came to reap the harvest. I was one of the luckiest. I was three months overdue. Unfortunately, my time had come now, and I could either moan about it or accept my fate with pride.

I looked back at Harley. His eyes remained stalled on the frosty landscape outside the hospital window. He was cogitating about something.

I gripped his hand tighter, gaining his attention. 'What are you thinking about?' My voice was thick from the overload of emotions.

He forced a feeble smile. It didn't skew the sadness from his eyes.

'Have some rest, my love.' He got off the chair and pressed a fond kiss on my forehead. 'And when you wake up, I promise it'll be the most beautiful days you've ever lived,' he said, and left the room.