Love and Resilience

Fading Echoes

SERENA'S POV

Today is our flight to the US. My mom and I decided that I should undergo treatment there, not only because of the highly recommended doctors and advanced procedures but also to avoid Jovana. I can't let her know about my condition. Keeping her in the dark is painful, but I think it’s for the best. If she finds out, I know she’ll want to stay by my side, and I can’t let that happen. I can't drag her into this battle. Not again.

Before heading to the airport, I asked Jovana to meet me at the park where we went after meeting her father. That day felt like a lifetime ago, when everything between us was simple and full of hope. Now, I’m standing in front of her, my heart heavy with the secret I carry. The weight of what I’m about to do suffocates me, but I can't stop myself. I have to protect her from this, even if it means hurting her in the process.

Jovana starts talking, her voice soft but persistent, trying to understand why I left her before. “Serena, why did you just disappear? Why are you shutting me out again?” Her words cut through me, her brown eyes searching mine, trying to find the answer I can't give.

She wants me back. She wants to open the door to all the things we never got to say, never got to explore fully. I know she's hoping I'll break and tell her the truth, that I’m ready to face whatever I’m dealing with.

But I can’t.

"I'm not ready, Jovana," I tell her, my voice distant, as if I’m saying the words to someone else, not the woman I love more than anything. "I have to do this on my own I don’t you involved."

Her expression shatters. I can see the pain flicker in her eyes. She's trying so hard to understand, but how can she when I refuse to give her the real reason? It's not that I don't want her involved; it's that I can't bear the thought of her suffering again, watching me go through this.

Her mom died from cancer, and I can’t put her through that nightmare again. She already lost someone she loved to this disease. I won’t let her lose another.

My phone buzzes. It's a text from my mom. *We need to go now. The flight is boarding soon.*

I swallow the lump in my throat. "I have to go." I can barely get the words out. I turn away quickly before she can see the tears building in my eyes.

I hear her calling my name, but I don’t stop. If I do, if I look back, I know I’ll run back to her, and I can’t afford to do that. Not now. Not when I'm trying to protect her.

As I walk away, I force myself not to look back. My steps feel heavy, like each one is pulling me farther away from the life I want with her. But it’s the only way to keep her safe, even if it’s killing me inside.

The sound of her voice echoes in my head, and I fight the urge to turn around, to take her in my arms and tell her everything. But I can’t. Not yet.

We arrive at the airport, and my three friends are there to bid us goodbye. I try to hold it together for them, but the truth is, I’m falling apart inside. I wish I could tell them how scared I am.

How terrified I am that I won't make it back. But instead, I put on a brave face, hugging them tightly, promising to stay in touch.

The flight feels like an eternity, but when we finally land in the US, there’s no time to waste. My mom and I head straight to the hospital. The sterile smell of the building hits me the moment we walk in. This is it. The beginning of the battle I’m not sure I’m ready to fight.

The doctors are efficient, kind but professional. They explain the treatment plan, the tests they'll run, and the procedures I’ll undergo. Chemotherapy, radiation, surgery words that blur together in my head as they talk.

I sit there, nodding along, trying to absorb it all, but the only thing I can think of is Jovana. How, in another world, she would be sitting right next to me, holding my hand, promising that we’d get through this together. But in this world, I’m alone. And that’s how it has to be.

Days pass in a blur of hospital rooms, needles, and medication. The first round of chemo hits me hard, the nausea almost unbearable, but I push through. My mom stays by my side, her quiet strength keeping me grounded, but I see the worry in her eyes. She tries to hide it, but I know she’s scared. Scared that I might not make it through this. I’m scared too.

The hardest part is not being able to talk to Jovana. I want to call her, to hear her voice, to let her know how much I miss her. But I can’t. I chose this. I chose to push her away to protect her, and I have to live with that decision. But God, I miss her. Every day, every minute, I miss her.

And as the treatment continues, as the days stretch into weeks, I wonder if I made the right choice. If keeping her out of this was really the best thing for either of us. Because the truth is, I need her. I need her strength, her love, her belief that we can get through anything together.

But I can't let myself think like that. I made my choice, and now I have to live with it. I just hope, in the end, that it’s enough to save us both.