For a while, you had begun to feel better. Walking was no longer a struggle, and you could breathe unassisted. Those days were precious, and you treated them as such. Your boyfriend made sure you spent every moment enjoying the days you had together. He had been able to make a return with his group, and for a while you thought life would once again embrace the sweet routine you had missed for so many weeks.

Unfortunately, the sun refused to stay out for long. You were gifted only a few months of freedom before illness brought you once again to the hospital. Any progress you thought your health had made was obliterated, your body dependent on the number of machines around the cot.

It was inevitable. Your hourglass was slowly trailing to its finish, the final grains of sand slipping slowly through the glass. Somehow, you knew that healing would be impossible this time. Nature was gracious enough to offer you the sense that these moments would be your last.

Once more, your boyfriend took leave from promotions. You begged him to remain with his group, pleading for him to leave. Wasn’t it enough that you were bringing down his mood with your illness? You didn’t want his future to suffer as well. An understanding of the world had blossomed deep within your chest. For you, this would be the end. But for your boyfriend, his life would stretch on indefinitely. As you tried to explain this to him, he merely shook his head. Nothing you said would convince him to leave, his face present when you slept and when you awoke.

Most evenings he would hold you tightly to his chest. You insisted he sit on the cot with you, despite the nurse’s disagreement. At first he was reluctant, afraid that doing so might cause more complications to your already ailing body. Eventually, he recognized the desperation in your shallow eyes, and understood. You weren’t going to survive this time, and you needed all of the contact you could receive.

Gently, he pulled strands of your hair away from the tubes running across your face. You looked up at him, smiling brightly behind the starch-white mask that covered your mouth.

“Remember the time you carried me home on your back?” He grinned, joining you in the recollection. “That was so much fun. I’m going to make you do that again someday!” Both of you knew someday would never come, but neither acknowledged the truth. Any mention of what impended was brushed aside for another day, another moment. Perhaps a part of you thought that if you let the thoughts simmer in only your mind, the day would never arrive. He smiled back thoughtfully.

“Do you remember when you tried to give me a piggy-back ride?” Both of you laughed loudly, remembering the inevitable dog-pile that resulted. You yawned, physically feeling the bags grow darker beneath your eyes. The paleness of your thin face made darker the shadows, and your boyfriend frowned. “I think you need to sleep.” He stood up, pulling the blanket carefully over you. “Goodnight. I love you.” You smiled, rolling your eyes slightly.

“I love you too. Don’t look so morose! I’ll be here tomorrow.” He smiled half-heartedly.

“I hope so…” he murmured, too quiet for you to hear.

The next morning, you felt stranger than before. The pain and weakness was coupled with a distant sensation, almost as though you were disconnected from yourself. Your hands felt like bricks as you tried to lift them, and few words would drift past your lips. Fear reflected in the darkness of your eyes. You knew what was coming, yet had no strength to convey it.

For you, the next few days felt slow and torturous. For him, they were rapid but equally as agonizing. Your verbal skills diminished to almost nothing, and only through your gaze did he understand. All day he spoke to you, asking for no response. You stared back, conveying all that you could. Every night he kissed your forehead before tucking you in to sleep. It took the entirety of your strength to utter those three words every night, but you did so without fail. They became hardly louder than a whisper, but your boyfriend always responded with the same.

He looked down as you lay silently on your cot. The only sound was the hollow echo of a machine breathing for you. That sound haunted him even when he left your room to get dinner. It was detached and slow, bombarding his brain like a virus. He hated that machine. He wanted to rip it from the wall and destroy it, but knew it was one of the few things keeping you in his world.

It would happen today. Something about the atmosphere reeked of his fears, and he could tell by your silence that you had reached the end of your road. Yesterday you had barely been able to say “I love you,” and today had uttered not a word. You hadn’t so much as moved beneath the sheet, yet the monitors nearby promised you were still alive. Night came quickly, and for a moment he hoped you would speak. No sign of response or recognition shimmered on your face, and he sighed.

He leaned closely to kiss your forehead, and almost pulled back when he felt your lips on his cheek. You made the tiniest, most miniscule of motions in an effort to let him know. Your body was disconnected, you could barely hang on, yet your brain remained strong to the last possible second. If you couldn’t express your love in words, you were going to push to the absolute maximum to tell him.

His eyes widened when he realized your fighting effort. He lifted you up carefully, pulling you tightly into his arms. Your head rested on his chest, and he tilted your chin to stare directly at your closed eyes. Pain was clearly marked across your face, your brows pulled slightly together. He touched your cheek with the side of his hand.

“It’s okay. You can let go.” Your expression grew soft as soon as the words left his lips. A shiver rolled across his body, as he felt the life within you finally leave. As you grew limp in his arms, a smile pulled slightly on your face. You had found peace.

Kissing your forehead, he sighed softly.

“I love you.”

He didn’t cry this time. Enough tears had been spent when he thought you were asleep, and no longer did he fear the end. Nothing he could do as a human would make you live, and the only direction he could move was forward. His heart was broken and alone, yet he whispered to you a final promise. As you were slowly taken away from him, he repeated the words under his breath. The rest of his life was for you both. Looking to the sky, he smiled sadly.

“I’ll live it well, I promise. I won’t waste a second, don’t worry.” He paused, biting his lip gently. “I guess if you look at it in the long run, I’ll be able to tell you all about it pretty soon. Keep an eye on me in the meantime okay?” As he walked from the hospital, a rainbow stretched delicately across the sky. Raising his hand in a salute, he nodded his head. He knew without a fragment of a doubt, that you approved.