Unexpected Love

Chapter 84: (Grace's POV)

My fingers move along the piano keys and the angelic sound flows throughout our house. The last few weeks have consisted of myself playing the piano, something to do while Misha is gone.

He was checked into the hospital by his doctor a whole month ago and is currently still there. I hate to say this..but he's dying. Fast. He has severe sickness from his unusually high stage of thyroid lung cancer and has been non-stop vomiting. He has everything from migraines to always being too cold or too hot. It pains me to see him like this.

I pull out yet another piece of sheet music and begin to learn a classical Beethoven song. Again, I gently press my fingers against the keys and fly over them, creating a pretty melody.

"Sounds beautiful." I hear a hoarse voice call out, soon recognizing it as Misha's.

A smile appears on my face knowing that Misha is back, but it soon fades away when I turn around and see how bad of a condition he's in.

Dark bags under his eyes, discolored skin..and he's in a wheelchair. Our doctor is close behind him, rolling the wheelchair closer towards me.

"Misha...." I trail off, my heart breaking as I realize he's too weak to even speak again.

"Misha's lungs are stable so he was permitted to check out of the hospital." The doctor pauses, "But, as you can see, he is still terribly sick. And there's a little chance that he will get any better. You will need to take care of him, most likely until the day he passes away."

Misha looks up at me, his blue eyes filled with sadness. I give him a small smile before replying to the doctor.

"I can take care of him." I answer, bending down next to Misha. He uses all of his strength to grab my hand.

The doctor nods and explains to me what medicine he will need to take. Misha quietly waits for us to be finished talking.

"Bye! Thank you so much." I halfheartedly tell the doctor as he walks out of the door.

I roll the wheelchair into our living room and take a seat on the sofa. Misha begins to cough and it never seems to stop. I rub my hand up and down his arm, feeling helpless because I can't help him. He's just going to die and there's nothing I can do about it.

I lean in and and press my lips against his, not caring if I get sick. Misha slowly sits up and kisses me back.

"I love you." He whispers, his voice raspy of the sore throat he has.

"I love you too." I reply, really meaning it. I love him more than anything and anyone in the world.

I don't know what I will do when Misha dies.

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