"Sweetheart, what Guiness World record are you trying to break?" he asked lightly the moment he entered her ward, seeing how badly broken she was. Multiple fractures in her arms and legs, lacerated wounds on her face and he believed that almost 99% of her body was bandaged.
She attempted to smile at him. "I'm ok. I just thought I needed the rest," her voice was broken, just like how he was feeling inside. He reached for her fingers, the only part that was not covered in bandage and kissed each of them.
"I'm sorry," she whispered softly and he could not contain his tears. "For what?" he asked, swallowing lumps in his throat.
"For not being able to cook for you anymore," she responded.
"You can do that when you've recovered, please, just focus on getting well, OK?" he squeezed her fingers lightly. "I love you,"
She smiled a little, though the forlorn look was still in her eyes, and her voice was barely audible when she said next "I love you. I wish it too..."
He sensed a but somewhere along her sentence, but she let it drift and he wouldn't ask her. He just couldn't. They were silent for a long time, staring at each other, lost in their own thoughts. He'll talk to the doctors soon, to find out everything that he can. He's not ready to let her go. Perhaps he never will. God, please, make her OK. Make all this a dream. Please, God.
About half an hour later, she was fast asleep, and a nurse was asking him to see the doctor. He took a deep breath. This is it. With his heart weighing heavy in his chest, he followed the petite nurse to the doctor's office.
"Sweetheart, I'll be back," he kissed her forehead and left. The moment he left, a single tear fell down her cheek, slowly absorbed into the bandage on her head. She wept in her sleep and perhaps that was the only time she was able to do that.
to be continued...
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