YA1 || ❝To finding love in your arms everyone morning as I wake up, your eyes meeting my own in a pool of never ending depth. A depth I was willing to test in this life and the next, even if that meant drowning in the swirls of your scent.❞
This boo...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
➖〰️➖〰️➖〰️➖〰️➖
It's been two weeks.
Two weeks since you've been asleep at the hospital. The doctor says that you should regain consciousness any moment, but the moment just doesn't seem to come any sooner.
And I've been right by your side, waiting for those cornflowers blues of yours to flutter open.
But they just won't.
I haven't slept the nights nor have been able to leave you during the days, not since I reached the hospital and was told that you didn't have a very good chance of making it.
It's like my life just plunged into a world of what nightmares must feel like. Neither do I fall awake nor does the nightmare move in any direction.
It's just wait.
A little more wait.
And then some more wait.
When I spoke to the doctor after you five-hour long surgery, they told me that the accident had been bad. You'd saved a child from being run over by a car that had lost control but at the cost of your own life.
The child's parents had brought you in on time, the doctor had informed, the only reason why you even had a chance of survival in the first place, no matter how slim.
The child's parents were kind enough to stay back with my for the night even though words of gratitude seemed to have evaporated, my thoughts brought to a standstill.
It seemed improbable, absurd even that you should be so close to death when just ours before you were so close to me. You'd stayed over at my place for the night and had decided to leave for work directly, even though I ended up leaving earlier than you.
And yet I had not even reached halfway to work when I was called by the hospital to tell me about your accident. One hour couldn't potentially change so much, and yet it did.
And yet it did.
After the first night of simply staring at your deceptively still figure, they told me that you'd pulled through the night, which meant that your chances of survival had increased substantially.
The child's parents seemed relieved as they finally decided to have a change of atmosphere, but I urged them to go home instead. They'd helped me enough, I couldn't ask any more of them. They promised to drop in from time to time before leaving.
And since then, it's just been you and me. Both of us in a strange battle of wills. They had to keep you in intensive care for an entire week before they could deem you stable enough to recover on your own, and me sterilized enough to be able to finally see you and hold your hand, if not anything else.
When I saw you in the private ward for the first time since you were moved in, I didn't know whether I preferred seeing you this way or you away from my eyes in the ICU.
The doctor and the nurses said that you looked much better and yet I couldn't believe it. Your face had so many half healed bruises and colouring, your arm and leg in slings and then there were the machines... oh, the machines that determined just how much of you remained still.
It's been a week since then, since when I can't remember anything except falling asleep awkwardly at the helm of your still form and waking up at the helm of your still form, sometimes with a blanket over me. My parents have been worried sick that I've refused to budge from here, my colleagues concerned about how much longer I can go this way before losing my job.
But I can't leave you. Because I am your only family left in this world.
I can see your bruises healing before my eyes every day like magic, your vitals growing stronger by the day. And yet you won't wake up. The doctors keep saying that it's only a matter of time that you do, but you don't. They blame your head trauma for the delayed consciousness, and yet I don't know what to blame it on anymore.
I wake up, I find you. I close my eyes in prayer, I find you. I open my eyes in surrender, I find you. I feel the wind rustle across my skin, I find you.
You're right beside me yet you're not. Your body is alive and yet you're not. The doctors tell me not to lose hope and yet my heart keeps sinking, fearing the unknown.
Fearing what until now was perhaps too good to be true.
If I had known that the night we spent together was probably marked as the last one in our destiny, perhaps I wouldn't have let gone of you in the first place.
Whether or not you loved me for one more night then.
