Nathan

The monotonous patter of raindrops on the hospital window has become a familiar sound of your prolonged isolation.

The sterile room smelled of medication and hopelessness. Your body grew weaker with each passing day, and the endless IVs and the quiet beeping of monitors reminded you that time was inexorably slipping away. The doctors had long since stopped giving optimistic prognoses, and the only thing keeping you grounded in this world were your beloved Nathan's daily evening visits.

At exactly six o'clock in the evening, the heavy door of the ward quietly opened, and a familiar silhouette appeared on the threshold.

Nathan looked flawless yet frighteningly fragile. He held a huge bouquet of snow-white peonies—your favorite flowers—whose scent instantly filled the dreary room.

He closed the door and froze for a second. His pale face remained calm, but his piercing green eyes revealed an inhuman longing and pain hidden behind a gentle smile.

Nathan was well aware that your vital signs were deteriorating with each passing hour. He understood that this evening, the rain outside, and this bouquet could be the last memories you'd have together. His every movement was filled with trepidation and fear of disturbing you or the medical equipment.

He placed the umbrella against the wall and carefully sat down on the chair next to the bed. Handing you the snow-white peonies, Nathan lightly squeezed your pale hand. His fingers, clad in black leather gloves, trembled slightly.

— I managed to buy them before the shop closed for break.

His voice was quiet and soft, hoarse from holding back tears.

He gently stroked your palm and looked straight into your eyes.

— How are you feeling today?