Until The Last Breath

chapter six

Taylor's POV

The days after I started feeling a little better. It felt like a strange dream, like I was watching someone else live my life. I spent more time out of bed, and Travis was always there with me. Even when his own energy was running low, he stuck by my side, refusing to leave me alone.

I didn't want to admit it, but I was starting to like him more than I should. It was hard not to. He was the only one who really understood what I was going through. He wasn't just some guy I met in the hospital. He was my anchor. The one person who could make me laugh even when I didn't feel like it.

For the first time in months, I was able to sit up without feeling like I'd been hit by a truck. I could take deep breaths without the sharp stab of pain in my chest. I didn't feel great, but I felt like I could maybe, just maybe, make it through the day without feeling like I was drowning in my own body.

"Hey, are you okay?" Travis asked me, sitting up in his bed, wincing slightly. "I think I'm okay," I said, my voice hoarse but stronger than it had been in days. "I feel... better. A little."

"Really? That's awesome, Taylor." His smile was a little unsure, like he didn't quite believe it himself. But it made my heart swell with warmth. He was rooting for me.

"I don't know how long it'll last," I whispered, almost as if I were afraid to say it out loud. The last time I'd felt like this, it hadn't lasted. But this time, it felt different. I didn't want to ruin the moment, didn't want to jinx it.

He didn't say anything for a moment, just sat there, watching me with a soft, steady gaze. Then, his voice was quiet but firm. "Maybe it's a sign. Maybe this is the start of something better."

I met his eyes and nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Maybe."

I carefully swung my legs over the side of the bed, feeling the coolness of the floor against my feet. My body protested, muscles aching, but I ignored it and stood up. I didn't want to stay in bed all day. Not anymore.

"What are you doing?" Travis asked, his voice half-laughing, half-concerned.

"I'm going for a walk," I said, my words a little shaky but determined. "I need to move. I don't care if it's just down the hall. I need to feel... normal."

He raised an eyebrow but didn't stop me. "You sure you're up for it?"

"I think so," I said, my voice steadier than it had been. I didn't know how long I'd last, but I wasn't going to sit around and let the pain win. Not today.

I made it out of the room, my steps slow but deliberate. Travis stood against the wall, probably not feeling up to walking. I walked in silence at first, just the sound of my shoes against the floor and the faint beep of machines in the distance. It was peaceful, almost comforting, like the hospital had momentarily forgotten to be a place of fear and suffering.

I reached the end of the hall, and I stopped, leaning against the wall for support. It wasn't a long walk, but it felt like an accomplishment. Like I'd won a small victory over my own body. I looked over at Travis, who was standing a little further down the hallway, watching me with a quiet smile.

"You good?" he asked.

I nodded, my breath coming a little quicker now, but not from exhaustion. Just the sheer relief of moving, of feeling like I had some control over my life again.

"I'm good," I said. "I'm really good."

But even as I said the words, something tugged at me, something deep inside that I didn't want to acknowledge. What if this was just a fluke? What if the improvement wasn't real, just a temporary relief before the real fight started again? What if I felt better now only to crash even harder later?