Petals

Fragility

Weeks turned into months, and the weight of Aya's illness bore down on them both with relentless force. The once hopeful conversations about the future had been replaced by long, heavy silences, punctuated only by the beeping of monitors and the sound of Aya’s labored breaths. The disease had taken so much from her—her strength, her vitality, and now, even her sight. The flowers that bloomed within her had spread to such an extent that one of her eyes had gone completely blind, the petals pressing against her optic nerve, cutting off her vision. The world she once saw so clearly was now fading into a blur, and with it, her connection to the life she had loved so fiercely.

In the quiet of the hospital room, Aya’s breaths grew more labored, each inhalation a struggle against the tightening grip of the disease. The once simple act of breathing had become a constant battle, her chest rising and falling in uneven gasps as she fought for every breath. The flowers had taken root deep within her lungs, their petals fluttering with each exhalation, a cruel reminder of the love she could never fully express.

"I'm scared, Nao," Aya confessed one night, her voice barely more than a whisper. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she clutched Nao's hand with a strength born of desperation. The disease had stolen much of her ability to speak, her words often lost in the shallow rasp of her breath, but in that moment, the fear in her voice was unmistakable. "I don't want to leave you."

Nao’s own tears fell freely, her heart breaking with each labored breath Aya took. She could see the fear in Aya’s one good eye, the way it clouded her vision and filled her with a terror that Nao felt echoing within herself. Aya, who had once been so full of life, was now slipping away, her body betraying her even as her spirit tried to hold on. Nao leaned in close, pressing her forehead against Aya’s, their tears mingling in a silent exchange of love and anguish.

"I'm not ready to say goodbye, Aya," Nao whispered, her voice thick with emotion. The words caught in her throat, choked by the grief that threatened to overwhelm her. "Stay with me, please."

Aya nodded weakly, her hand tightening around Nao's as if to draw strength from their shared bond. But even that small movement was a struggle now, her body so weakened by the disease that every gesture seemed to take an enormous effort. Her once clear, bright voice was now reduced to a faint rasp, each word a painful exertion. She had so much she wanted to say, so many things she still needed to share with Nao, but the flowers had taken even that from her. They had silenced her, their roots entwining around her vocal cords, making it nearly impossible for her to speak.

But in the darkness that was slowly enveloping her, Aya clung to the presence of Nao and Haruka. They were her anchors, the last remaining threads of a life that was slipping through her fingers. The blindness in one eye made the world seem even more uncertain, her vision distorted and incomplete. Yet, she could still see Nao’s face, still feel the warmth of her touch, and that was enough to keep her fighting, even as the disease continued its merciless assault.

Haruka often sat by Aya’s side, gently dabbing her forehead with a cool cloth or holding her hand through the worst of the coughing fits. The sight of Aya in such a state—so fragile, so diminished—was almost more than she could bear. Yet, Haruka remained steadfast, her presence a source of comfort in the darkest of times. She would speak to Aya in soft tones, recounting stories of the Sakura tree, of the times they had spent together, trying to bring a sense of normalcy to a world that had become anything but.

"You’re so strong, Aya," Haruka would say, her voice full of quiet admiration. "You’ve fought so hard. We’re all so proud of you."

But Aya could feel herself slipping, the weight of the flowers pressing down on her, making it harder and harder to stay present. The once vibrant colors of the world had faded to gray, the blindness in her eye a constant reminder of the disease that was taking her life piece by piece. Yet, in those moments when she could still see Nao’s face, still feel the warmth of her hand, Aya found the strength to keep going, to hold on just a little longer.

The nights were the hardest, the darkness amplifying the fear that gnawed at her insides. In those moments, Nao would stay with her, holding her close, whispering words of love and comfort. She would remind Aya of their plans, of the life they still had to live, even as the reality of the situation grew more dire. The flowers might have taken Aya’s sight, her voice, her strength—but they could never take away the love she felt for Nao. That love was the last thing she had, and she held onto it with everything she had left.

As the weeks turned into months, and the disease continued its relentless march, Aya knew she was running out of time. But even in the face of that terrifying reality, she found solace in the presence of Nao and Haruka, in the love that surrounded her, giving her the courage to face whatever came next. The flowers might have bloomed within her, marking the passage of time she could never reclaim, but the love she shared with Nao was eternal, and in that love, Aya found the strength to carry on, even as the end drew near.