a girl, that knows nothing of feelings. not only that, but her body is also suffering greatly.
not knowing that she was being ruled by emotions on a rollercoaster of passion, while the desire for more, more of the many beautiful feelings she feels f...
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It was almost 10 in the morning, and here she was again, in the place that felt more like a prison than a home. This room, sterile and cold, had become her constant companion, a second home she despised. She loathed this place more than she loathed her classmates, more than her teachers, more than her frail body.
Day after day, she lay in the same bed, in the same room, a room that had become solely hers. It was her domain, but not one of comfort or love. If anyone wanted to see her, all they had to do was step into her white, empty room. They would find her either gazing out the window at the world she could no longer freely join or scribbling in her diary. But no one ever came to see her.
She couldn't remember a time when she could leave the house without fear, when she could run without limits, laugh without care, and feel joy in just being alive. Now, it felt as though she was trapped in a dark, suffocating room with no escape. It was as if an unseen force was determined to keep her locked in her cold, lonely cell forever. She curled up with her legs pulled to her chest, lost in thoughts of despair.
Every morning, she woke up wondering if she would survive another day. Would her body endure long enough for her to find happiness, even for a fleeting moment? Such a hope seemed unreachable, a distant dream that would never come true. Yet, despite her emptiness, a small seed of hope persisted, a hope for a better life where she could frolic like a carefree child, oblivious to the judgments of others. Even if it were just for a minute, that fleeting joy would mean the world to her.
She was weary of the life she led, each day a struggle, each breath a reminder of her fragile existence. Outside her window, the birds sang joyfully, courting each other under the bright sun, while dark clouds slowly crept in. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the arrival of her visitor.
“Nice weather today, isn’t it?”
Her doctor, Mr. Min, had entered the room. His white coat, comically oversized, swayed as he approached, papers in hand.
“I don’t know if you need new glasses, but it’s going to rain,” she retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Mr. Min chuckled at her remark, but his laughter faded as he looked at her. He had known her for so long, and he had never wanted to become so attached to a patient. It saddened him that everyone in the clinic knew her so well. It was heartbreaking to see such a good person, who deserved all the beauty and joy in the world, suffer so much.
“Just tell me the results,” she sighed, her eyes never leaving the darkening sky.
Mr. Min rolled up his sleeves and approached her slowly, his smile now gone. “It’s not good. Your connective tissue has increased significantly since the last x-ray.”
“Your air sacs are decreasing rapidly, which is reducing the elasticity of your lungs.”
These words were nothing new to her. She felt no shock, no anger, no sadness. She had long given up expecting good news. It would have been a miracle to hear something positive, but miracles seemed to be reserved for others, not her.
She realized that with each passing day, her dream of freedom slipped further away. How could she ever feel better when she could barely eat or move? The lack of appetite left her weak, and even the simplest physical activity resulted in breathlessness and burning lungs.
“It never gets better, does it?” Her voice was void of emotion, her eyes reflecting a deep emptiness.
“There’s a new medicine being tested. If approved, it could help your condition.”
“Could I be cured?” For a moment, a spark of hope lit up her eyes, but it quickly faded when she saw Mr. Min’s hesitant expression.
“Your pulmonary fibrosis can’t be cured, but this medication might slow its progression.”
Her face returned to its blank, emotionless state. She had known better than to get her hopes up, but the reminder still stung.
“So, the grim reaper is coming for me soon?”
She turned her gaze back to the window, watching the raindrops begin to fall, their echo filling the silent room. It was as if the sky was weeping for her, even though she felt incapable of tears.
Mr. Min’s voice was gentle, almost pleading. “If your connective tissue continues to worsen, it doesn’t look good.”
She nodded slightly and stood up, pulling her jumper tighter around her as she prepared to leave. Since the first signs of her illness, she had known her time was limited. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her days in this sterile room, waiting for the inevitable end. She wanted to make her dreams come true, but she didn’t even know what those dreams were anymore.
“Nabi, please don’t give up,” Mr. Min’s voice called after her as she walked away.
Don’t give up? What is there to give up?
What reason did she have to fight?
To live?
Nabi stepped out into the rain, feeling the cold drops on her skin. It was as if her entire life had passed her by, leaving her unable to enjoy a single moment. Her mother had named her Nabi, meaning butterfly, hoping she would live a long, free life, soaring high and embracing every moment. But now, she was a butterfly with broken wings, grounded and unable to fly.
She was supposed to be beautiful and free like a butterfly.
I hope you guys will look forward to the other chapters too. I will update when i have time soooo please keep supporting me! 🦋
