I saw him.  Across the room.

His head turned my way, but he looked right through me.   Never really noticing. Never truly seeing.

We had been the perfect .  Before.  Before the accident.

It had ruined my life, but it had taken his.  No, his heart was still beating; it was his passion that was dead.   His art.  Never again could he experience it like he’d used too.  His life—and mine—would never go back to the way it was.

That night, the car had flipped, and he was never the same.  Mentally or physically.  When the airbags exploded, his had malfunctioned, spraying the acidic chemicals inside and burning his face severely.   Through multiple skin grafts and surgery, the doctors had managed to save his face. 

His beautiful face.

But they couldn’t save his eyes.  Once deep brown and enticing, they became milky blue, cold and sightless.  Luhan was blind.  No more would he be able to be able to fuss over my hair in the morning or help me shop for clothes at the mall.  No longer would he be able to see the magic he created with his camera.

 At first, I thought that if I acted like nothing had changed, then everything would be okay.  Maybe if I prayed and wished for something enough, it would come true.  I was wrong.   I was so, so wrong. 

The day my world fell apart was the day he woke up from his coma. During his surgery, there were complications, and one night, Luhan fell asleep, and he didn’t wake up.  I had been there every day, sitting by his bedside and holding his hand, telling him stories of our past together.  The day we met.  Our first date.  Our engagement.  Our wedding.  The good times.   I held onto the desperate hope that those stories would help him wake up.  They would help him come back to me. 

When he opened his eyes, I felt like I had grown wings. 

“I can—I can’t see!”

And just as quickly, those words brought my heart crashing to my toes.   My eyes filled with tears, and they began to overflow when he muttered, “I can’t…see…”  His face was so glaringly innocent and vulnerable and frightened.  It made my heart ache to see him like that.  With his emotions spread across his face.  He was terrified.  He was broken. 

I moved to take his hand, but before I could he turned his sightless eyes toward where I stood.  As if he could sense my presence.  He must have mistaken my silence for absence though, because he whispered, “Hello?  Is anyone there?”  

 I started to sob uncontrollably then.  I couldn’t respond, I simply stood and ran, bumbling through the halls and past all those other people waiting on their loved ones.  I reached the door and burst into the sunlight.  Unable to hold back, I slid my back down the rough brick wall, sitting with my head in my hands. 

I don’t know how long I sat there, but I would have been content to stay there forever, crying for what I had lost.  What he had lost.  What we had lost.  But eventually, though I could shed no more tears, I lacked the strength and the will to stand.  I lacked the will to reenter that hospital and have to face the doctor.  As it turned out, I didn’t have to.  He found me.

I felt a hand rest on my shoulder, and I looked up, suddenly self-conscious.  My mascara was probably horribly smeared, and I could only imagine what my hair looked like.  The doctor stood above me with an expression on his face.  At first, I had trouble recognizing what it was that twisted his face so.  Then it hit me.  Pity. 

“Miss, I’m so sorry for all that’s happened, but we need to run some more tests, and we’d like you to be there.  It’s going to be hard for him.” 

I swallowed my pride and nodded.  How selfish of me, to think only of myself when he was still in there, helpless and scared. 

The doctor smiled thinly and offered his hand to help me to my feet.  I accepted it gratefully.  That brief contact, the strength of his grip tethered me to reality.  I was going to pull it together.  For Luhan. 

*  *  *

“Emi?” was the first word out of his mouth when we entered the room.  He must have heard our footsteps.   Maybe he had been waiting for me.

“Luhan!  Baby I’m here,” I cried, pushing past the doctor and running to his side.  He reached out blindly for me, extending his arm in front of him to the air.  I took his hand and pulled it to my face.   “See Luhan?  I’m here.  It’s me.  Emi!”

He smiled, but his eyes weren’t focused on me.  They stared at the far wall, unseeing.  “I can’t see, Emi,” he stated, calmer now than when he had first awoken. 

“I know,” I murmured, gripping his hand tightly in both of mine.  They were cold, and I kissed his knuckles gently.  “I know, Luhan.”

“What…What happened to me?”

I took a deep breath before explaining carefully, “You were in an accident.  But that was almost two weeks ago.  When they took you into surgery, you fell into a coma.  But you’re awake now, and we’re together again.  That’s all that matters.” 

He nodded slowly.  “Will I—Will I ever be able to see again?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and mustered up my courage.  “No.”

There was a moment of silence.   And then…

“Emi,” he whispered, “Will you still love me?”

Startled and confused, I muttered, “What?  What are you saying?”

A tear trickled out of the corner of his eye and down his pale cheek.  “Will you love me now?  Now that I can’t see?”

I felt like a shard of glass had pierced my heart, hearing those words come out of his mouth.

“Oh Luhan, how could you even think such a thing?” I gasped.  I knew he couldn’t feel it, but I looked into his eyes, at a loss for a way to convince him that his idea was preposterous.  “How could you think that because you’re blind I’m not going to love you anymore?  I know that things will be different now, but I’m always going to be here.  Because I love you, Luhan.”

He squeezed my hand.  “I love you too Emi.”

“We’re going to get through this.  I promise.”

*  *  *

I felt him awake in the middle of the night, thrashing and grunting.  I sat up and hugged him close, holding him back as he struggled, feeling the fight drain out of him. 

He’d been having nightmares for the past couple nights now, but he had refused to tell me about them.  But it’d always be like this.  He’d wake, and I would hold him, assuring him that he was at home, in bed, and nothing was going to hurt him. 

This time, before he could calm, he started to cry.  I could feel his shoulders shake, and he buried his head in my neck.  I felt the hot tears on my skin, and I reached up a hand to smooth his hair.  “What’s wrong Luhan?  What happened?” I murmured, almost begging him to tell me.  I couldn’t stand seeing him in pain like this.  Not when I could do something.

He sniffled and replied, “I remember, Emi.”

“What do you remember?”

“The car accident.”

My spine stiffened as it clicked into place.  It made sense now.  The nightmares.  The kicking and the screaming.  It was the memories of the accident, coming back.  At first, I had wanted him to remember.  It was like a piece of him was missing.  I thought it would be easier if he knew why he was blind now, but now I realized I might have been wrong.  

“I was back…in the car,” he gasped.  “I was on the highway.  I was almost home!  And then that truck!”  His words dissolved into tears, and I held him tighter, feeling similar tears prick my eyes at his pain. 

“And then it hit!  And my face…and my eyes.  They hurt so badly!” his voice broke, and he collapsed into my arms.  “Can you promise me something?” he whispered.

“Anything.”

“Don’t let me go.”

I cried with him—for him—that night.   But I promised him, and myself, that I would never leave. 

“Don’t worry, Luhan.  I will always be right here.”

*  *  *

“Are you sure this will work?” he asked, turning his face towards the sound of my voice. 

I hesitated.  “Well, I’m not positive, but I do know that it’s worth a try.”

“Emi?  I’m scared.”

I had to smile to keep my own nervousness at bay.  “Don’t be.  I’m right here.”  I took his free hand and squeezed it lightly, trying to transfer some of my courage to him.  “Come on.  You can do it!”

I saw a ghost of a smile curve his lips, and it made my heart clench.  He rarely smiled anymore.  At least, not a real smile.  He nodded and squeezed my hand tighter while lifting his other hand.  He let go of my hand to hold the object steady. 

“What am I focusing on?” he asked.

I peered over his shoulder, taking in the image on the screen.  It was our backyard, and right now it was zoomed in on my favorite flower pot, the one with the daisies.  “My daisy pot,” I told him. 

He took a deep breath and suddenly the flash clicked. 

He had done it!

I let out a sigh of relief, a breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding, and took his smiling face in both my hands.  “You did it Luhan!  See?  I told you!” I cried, overjoyed.

“But, what if it isn’t good?  What if-?” he started, the fear starting to invade his features.

“No,” I cut him off, a little harshly.  “That’s not the point!  The point is you can still take your pictures.  You can still feel the camera.  You’re still you, no matter what.”

He sighed, processing my words, and said, “You’re right Emi.  Of course you’re right.”  After another second of contemplation, he whispered, half to himself, “I did it.  I really did it.” 

We—well, I—didn’t look at the picture to see how it turned out.  I meant it when I’d told him that wasn’t the point.  Because it wasn’t.  The point was that no matter what, that camera made him feel whole again.  He had been so scared of even contemplating life without his photography, but now he didn’t have to worry.  The pictures themselves didn’t matter.  It was what they represented that was important. 

That day, as he held his camera in his hand once again, pressing the button as if he could see exactly what he was focusing on, made me realize that it’s not about the big things in life that Luhan could or couldn’t do.  It was about the small things.  The actions as tiny and seemingly insignificant as pressing the flash on a camera.  Those were the things that mattered.   Those were what would make him strong again. 

*  *  *

He lived eight more years with me after that.  And they were eight long, happy years. 

In the end, I think he was just tired.  The doctors had a medical cause, of course, but before he left I could see it in his eyes.  He was tired of this life.  Although he loved me—as I knew he did—living life without sight was a burden.   It was a burden that sat permanently atop his shoulders, weighing him down wherever he went. 

His photography never went back to the way it had been.   But he was okay with that, I thought.  He knew that even if he wanted too, he could never see his pictures again.  And he had accepted that.  I’m not sure if he ever really came to terms with the fact that he was blind, but I do know that he at least came to terms with the fact that he couldn’t live life the way he’d used too.  And that had been good.  It had been a step in the right direction.  A better direction.

I was sitting at home after the funeral when I found it.  I had cried so much over the past few weeks that I had no more tears to offer.  I was simply…sitting. 

I was at the kitchen table, surrounded by mountains of portfolios.  His portfolios. 

I was flipping through one of the ones from after.  It was the earliest one.  I found the picture of the daisy pot.  His “first” picture. I’d taken to calling them that.  His “firsts”.  They were though.  They were the first ones he’d been able to take during his new life.   I ran my hands over that picture, the daisies.  It was truly terrible.  Out of focus and blurry.  But to both of us, it had been beautiful.  That’s what I had told him. 

“It’s beautiful,” I said, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Really?”  His sightless eyes turned towards the sound of my voice, and he smiled.

“Of course.”

The picture felt bumpy though, as if there was something behind it in the transparent sheet.  Puzzled, I tipped it over, and a small, hard object clattered onto the wood.  I picked it up and saw that it was a tape.  A tape from the old tape recorder he’d bought me before we’d gotten married.  He’d recorded many messages to me on those tapes.  It was easier than writing.  Certainly easier for me to understand. 

My breath seemed to catch in my throat as I looked at the tape.  Such a simple object could hold so many things.  I didn’t know if I was ready to bring up those emotions I’d been forcibly shutting away for the funeral and the visitation.  

But then I thought of him.  His undeniable courage in facing the unknown.  And I knew that I had to listen, if even just to honor his memory. 

With shaking fingers I retrieved the tape player and inserted the tape.  I shut my eyes and focused on my breathing as the familiar clicking and whirring meant the tape was playing.  In.  Out. 

When his voice started, it felt like a hand had reached into my chest and wrenched my heart. 

“Emi, if you’re listening to this, I know you’ve found it.  You have no idea how long it took me to get this back there.  Remember how I asked you so many times which one the daisy picture was?  And how you showed it to me each time?  I had to have asked at least nine times in one day.” 

Luhan paused to chuckle, and I felt a smile curve my lips at the sound.  I already missed his voice.

“Well, that’s not the point.  Emi, I know that I’m not going to be around forever.  Already I can feel something settling over me.  It’s almost as if I know that my time is almost up.”

So we had both known.  My smile slipped as I realized that we had both known.  If only I’d done something…

“I just want to tell you one last time how much you mean to me.  I think that it’s best this way, so you can listen to it again if you have too.  I hope you don’t though.  I hope you move on.”

I’ll never move on.  The all-too-familiar pricks behind my eyelids signaled the onset of even more tears, though I had thought it impossible.

“But while I have the chance, I want to tell you that you were—without a doubt—the best thing to ever happen to me.  Emi, after the accident I was so scared that you would leave me.  That you wouldn’t find it in yourself to live your life with a blind man.  I took so much from you, without even meaning too.  But you didn’t leave.  You stayed by me day after day, doing everything and more for me.

I love you Emi.  More dearly than I have ever loved before.  You were my savior.  When I was a child, I used to be afraid of the dark.  And when I woke up in total darkness, with no possibility of any light in the future, I was so scared.  How was I going to go on when faced with my greatest fear, knowing it would never leave?  But I was wrong.  It did leave.  And it was because of you.  You saved me from the darkness.  You saved me from my fear, and you made life worth living.  What was it you told me?  Oh yes.  It was your favorite quote.  Mother Theresa, I think.  ‘Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies.’ 

You were the one who taught me the meaning of that.  You made me realize that the darkness was big, but it was unchanging.  There wasn’t anything I could do to stop it or make it go away.   Through you I learned to draw my strength from the small things.  The way the camera felt in my hands, the tenderness of your kiss, or the warmth of your touch.  They anchored me here, to this world.  Without them—without you—I wouldn’t have made it past the first day in the hospital.

So thank you, Emi, for being there by me every step of the way, no matter how our journey ended.   Always remember that I love you so, so much, and I will never stop loving you.  Even if my physical form isn’t around to tell you so.  This tape will be.  And I’ll always be watching you.  Because now, if I’m gone, you can be sure that now I can see again.  Because where I am now, I’m no longer blind. 

Thank you Emi.  You gave me the gift of true life.  I love you.”

The tape clicked off.  The resulting silence was deafening.  I began to sob quietly, my shoulders shaking.  I clutched the tape recorder to my chest, wishing that I could hug him, warm and alive, instead of the hard, cold machine that held his voice. 

Finally, when my sobs quieted, I went outside, still holding the tape recorder in my hands.  I looked towards the blue sky and the white clouds far, far above, and I whispered, “Luhan, if you can hear me.  I will always love you.”

In my mind, I could almost hear him respond.

And I will always love you.

A/N:  I hope you guys think this is good enough for a contest! I'm actually pretty proud of the way this turned out.  Maybe it was even a little heart-wrenching?  Please critique me and let me know your honest opinion so I can try to improve my writing and this story!  Thank you for the support! :)  (BTW, it's my first poster!  What do you think?)