“I love you.”

    “I love you.”

    The phrase repeating over and over again in my head. It’s beautiful meaning lost to me. My heart broken and dull, no longer yearns to love another. It refuses to heal because it longs for him.  He warmed my heart, made it shine bright like the luminous sun in the sky, made it experience the most wonderful but foreign feelings in the world. He pushed his way into my heart, I accepted it and, soon he became apart of me. We were inseparable, we spent all the time we could spare together. I loved every minute of it, and suddenly our world shattered. He was involved in a terrible accident that put him in a coma for a little over a year. My heart felt the pain he was in, and I made it my goal to spend every day in that hospital with him. To talk to him and tell him my troubles my hopes, my dreams as if he were awake. It was my promise to him to never leave his side. But I broke that promise. I was called away for a family emergency  to Paris, I packed my bags with only the intention of staying for just a few days, but it was a mistake. On the last day of my stay, I was called in the dead of night by the doctor in charge of him. Updating me of his condition, my heart broke. I was told that he was not going to make it, in the three days that I had left, his condition declined drastically and, because of that he had less than twenty-four hours to live. Every time I remember that particular memory, its killing me bit by bit, stripping me of my sanity as it replays itself like a broken record, to mock me, weaken me. But  everyday, I’m reminded of the last twenty four hours we were connected with each other.

                                                                                                                     ♦♦♦♦♦♦                                                                                         

       Sleep eluded me that night ; the bustling liveliness of Paris’ night life was at full swing, the loud honks of car horns, the obnoxious yells and shouts of drunkards on the street, and the ear splitting wails of women being dumped in the most terrible of ways could be heard from my hotel window. But that wasn’t the thing keeping me up, it was the conversation with the doctor had me tossing and turning with worry and fear in my bed was what kept me awake. Being told that your lover wasn’t going to make it to the next day is the one of the worst things that can be said to you, and that was exactly what he told me. He wasn’t going to make it. His condition had drastically declined and they were did everything in their power to save him, but it was all in vain. There was nothing they could do but to notify me of the grave news.

        Immediately after the phone call ended, I wanted to break down and cry. I couldn’t believe that he was going to leave without me. He wasn’t going to be by my side, but worst of all, I couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t be able to see his radiant smile ever again. I wanted to convince myself that it wasn’t true, that it was all going to be alright,and the hospital just mixed up my lover for someone else. I wanted that to be the truth, but my heart didn’t want to be given any false hope. I accepted the bitter truth, and I felt my tears running down my cheeks as I fell into despair. I  curl up into a ball to protect myself from the bad news, and to shield myself from the world. I stay like that for a few minutes sobbing into my knees, finding solace in myself, but I realize that my lover wouldn’t be waiting for me in the hospital in her coma like state, but slipping further away from me every hour, every minute, every second I spend pathetically closing  myself away from the world. He’ll be leaving me behind.

     I drag myself off my bed, and trudge down to lobby to ask them to reserve me a one way ticket to New York City. The  lobby glitters with gold and silver carpeting, the chandelier sparkles like brilliant diamonds, and the windows reflects the golden lights that illuminate the streets of Paris. I sigh to myself, the feeling to bring him here to drink in this beautiful sight creeps up on me, making me feel even worse. I suppress the feeling of despair, and walk up to the reception desk and ask the woman if she could book me a flight to New York for first thing in the morning. They approve of my request, and I when she tells me, “Your ticket will be waiting for you at the  Charles de Gaulle Airport. Your flight will depart at six in the morning.” I thank her, and I hurry back to my suite to pack my belongings. I check the time and it’s only two in the morning. Four more hours until I’m reunited with the love of my life. I try to fall back asleep, but its impossible to do. I couldn’t wait to fall asleep, so I begin to get myself ready to live early in morning.

    Four in the morning is when I gather my things and check out of the hotel and hail a cab for a ride into the airport. Thirty minutes into the ride we are stuck in heavy traffic. The cab crawls to a stop and the cars ahead of us are moving at a snail’s pace. I beat the dashboard in frustration just as the cab a begins move once again, a two minutes after the stop, and relief washes over me as the hope that I’ll still get to the airport on time. It’s a short lived happiness, because after five minutes of driving traffic stops completely. I scream in anger, startling the poor driver, how just shoots me a dirty look without a word. The jam was caused by an accident on the freeway, and police cars and ambulances were on the scene to investigate what happened, and to scavenge for any survivors in the wreckage. The thirty minutes become forty, the forty become fifty, fifty becomes an hour, two hours, it's six thirty, I’ve missed my flight, and I can feel the weight of the world crashing down upon my shoulders.

    At six thirty traffic starts moving again, the scene of the accident all cleared up, allowing cars passage again. It didn’t matter to me anymore, I was an empty shell, the chances of getting to New York by today were close to null, and my chances of seeing her again were just the same. I didn’t stop the driver, I still had this sliver of hope that just maybe, I’ll be able to see my lover.

    We arrived at the airport at seven twenty, I quickly pay the driver and sprint into the airport terminal. I rushed to reception desk where all flights heading to America was located, and asked the lady seated there if there were anymore flights heading to New York that day.

    “I’m sorry sir, all the flights heading to New York today are all full, but if you like, I could get you a flight scheduled for New York tomorrow as early as four in the morning.” she said.

    I weakly thank her and I go to find a seat to wallow in my self pity. I groan in despair as I slump down, my hands covering my face, ready to pull my hair out, it takes every ounce of my self control to stop myself from screaming. I pull my hands down into my lap, taking a quick glance at my surroundings, I spot a bustling food court about 50 meters from where I’m seat. I don’t feel like eating even though I leave the hotel without grabbing a quick snack. I can’t fathom the thought of food right now with the all the things that has happened in few past hours has been nothing short of an emotional roller coaster ride. With my emotions being all over the place, my hectic morning, and my overall lack of sleep, exhaustion washes over me, my eyelids  feel heavy as the flutter repeatedly over my eyes; I want to stay awake but I can’t. Sleep takes me away and drift off into a sweet  dream.

        I open my eyes to see that I’m no longer in the airport, but in a sunny  meadow filled with blooming white carnations and daffodils. I get up and see that I’m no longer wearing my white button down shirt and black dress pants, but to see that I’m wearing a simple pure white outfit. I look around and see a figure in the distance wearing a simple but elegant white robe. A gentle wind nudges me forward, and I carefully walk towards her. As I get closer, the man begins to look familiar to me. A wave of excitment rushes through me. I jog towards him just to shorten the distance between us. I can’t contain my excitement any longer, and I’m compelled into shouting his name.

    “Zitao” I scream and the top of my lungs.

    I catch his attention, and ever so slowly he turns his body to face me. My heart is stuck in my throat as time seems to stop, he is fully facing me. I stop breathing for a second, a large smile creeps onto my face, and the next thing I know, I’m breaking into a sprint, I can no longer wait to be near him and he does the same. I catch Zitao in my arms and spin him around, his laughter is music to my ears and I laugh along with him. I put him down and we just look at each other, drowning in each other’s looks. I can’t get enough of it.  His radiant smile, my favorite thing in the world, is as beautiful as ever, his button nose scrunches up in a funny way, blush lightly dusting his cheeks, his brown eyes sparkle like diamonds,and his long straight black hair shaping his face to give it a more alluring  seductive look to contrast his delicate features. I pull him into a hug, his slim arms wrap around my waist as I lay butterfly kisses on top of his head. With every kiss, the sweet smell of peaches invades my nose and picture of Zitao and I laying on bed of peach blossoms comes into my mind. We let go and Zitao gently my face while looking at me with an expression filled with love.

    “Yifan, I have missed you so much. The amount of happiness I feel just from seeing you makes feel like I’m going to burst.” he says softly.

    I gently smile at his, I take his hand away from my face and interlace our fingers together, and I gently lay my forehead on his.

    “I’ve missed you too, Zitao.” I gingerly say.

    I lean down to kiss him, and just about our lips were to touch, I was awoken from my dream.

    Jolted awake, I look around, frazzled by my violent awakening, I’m disappointed in what I see. I’m still in the airport, not with Tao in beautiful a meadow.

    “Excuse me, sir, I’ve managed to book you a flight to New York.” a voice says.

    I look up to see the attendant at the desk from this morning, still confused I ask her for the time.

    “It’s three thirty in the morning sir. The flight I mentioned this morning will be taking off soon. I suggest you hurry if you don’t want to miss it.” she says.

I quickly gather my things, fix myself up and thank her. She smiles and waves at me.

  “I hope you meet Zitao when you go to New York.” she adds

  A look of shock wanders onto my face as I wonder how she knew Zitao’s name. As if reading my thoughts, she quickly inputs,

“You said his name while you slept.”

I blush and she giggles at my reaction and waves goodbye to me. I quickly go through security,and my passport is scanned and checked and I’m allowed to board the plane. Taking my seat, several thoughts swim around in my head about the well being of Tao. I know worrying about it won’t do me any good so I push them to the back of my mind, and settle myself down for the six hour flight.

   The minute the aircraft touched lands, and we were let off, everything was a blur. Going through customs, retrieving my bags, and hailing a cab all happened in a split of a second. I was so focused on getting to Zitao as soon as possible, I payed no mind to the people bumbling and fumbling about with their documents and luggages. I got into a  Blue Bird taxi cab and I promptly barked orders to Mount Sinai Hospital. There was no delay, and we soon arrived at the hospital without any problems. I told him to wait for me in parking lot, and I briskly walked to the hospital entrance.

Inside, I quickly asked for Zitao’s room, informing them who I was and what I was to her. They told me his room number, which was on the sixth floor, and I rushed for the nearest staircase. I didn’t want to be stuck waiting in an elevator in suspense. As I neared is room, I felt excited and scared at the same time. Excited that if I get there Zitao will still be alive and with the sliver of the chance of him  waking up, but scared that if I get there I’ll be too late.

    I flung the door open to see Zitao hooked up to the life support machine, the machine was silent , the screen had a flat line running across it. I didn’t want to see that. I was hoping that he would make. I stagger into the room, the doctors inside not saying a word. I take his hand into mine, I collapse onto my knees, and I began to weep into his arm.

“Zitao, Zitao. Please, you have to wake up.” I  gently his face with the other hand, hoping that he’ll respond. “Please, you have to wake up. Don’t leave. Wake up please. I want you stay with me.” I say in between each broken sob. No response. I sob even harder, pleading with him to wake up and open his eyes.

  I was a mess. I went on sobbing and begging him to wake up for ten minutes until one of the doctors lightly put his hand on my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I look up to him, I felt numb. I don’t want to ask, but I do.

 “W-When?” I softly say.

 He doesn’t hear me the first time.

 “Excuse me?”

 “When did he- leave?” I say a louder this time; I couldn’t bring myself to say that she died.

 “You are Wu Yifan, correct?” he asks,ignoring my question completely.

 My patience is waning thin.

 “Yes! Now please answer me!” I half demand, half beg.

 “Mister. Huang Zitao died two hours prior your arrival. I’m sorry for your loss.”

     My heart broke, shattering into a million pieces, pieces too small for me to pick up. I slowly look away, and look at the floor. I couldn’t bare to see his face, no matter how peaceful he looked, his hand still in mine. I wanted to scream, to yell at the doctors about their incompetence, about how they couldn’t keep one man alive. I wanted to stomp around like a child throwing a  tantrum, shouting to world how unfair life is for letting Zitao die, also to Zitao for leaving me behind. I wanted to do all these things, but I knew even I did, nothing would change. Zitao would still be dead. He wouldn’t be coming back to me.

   I get up and quietly shuffle out of the room. I left without saying goodbye to him and without saying the one thing I should’ve said most.

                                                                                                                                                  ♦♦♦♦♦♦

       It’s been seven years since his death. I’ve been slowly picking up the pieces to my broken heart, I’ve still got a long way to go. I realize that “I love you.” still haunted me to this day because I didn’t convey my feelings to him at our last meeting, even though he was already gone. I’ve realized for  five years now, but I’m too much of a coward to say it aloud, but today I want to change that. I take a deep breath, I open my mouth to say it, but the words get stuck in my throat. I try again, and again, the words still won’t come out. I take another deep breath, I try again. The words escape my throat, and flutter around in the silent room. It comes out soft, but I still hear myself say,

“Zitao, I miss you and I love you.”