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without further adieu, I present to you the next chapter...

DEVI BHATT

I stare at the white walls of the private hospital. The oncology ward.

Clammy hands and a racing heart sums me up as I wait for Sasha to come out. I'm not sure why she told me to come with her to her chemotherapy appointment and I'm not sure why she didn't let me come in with her.

I had just finished seeing my own doctor, who told me that my symptoms had cleared up and that it's become dormant inside of me. Dormant. I'm never not going to have it anymore. It's going to stay with me forever.

Time stills when I think about it.

Pushing it out of my head as I violently scratch my forearms, I look around the room. Whenever my sight falls on the bell, my stomach twists. My hands become clammier.

What also doesn't help my ridiculous sweating is the layers upon layers I'm wearing– on top of my crew neck is a T-shirt, and on top of my T-shirt is a big fluffy coat. Then, under my jeans, I had anxiously put on a pair of tights and leggings.

I'm a walking wardrobe and a mannequin of anxiety at the same time.

As days pass by, all I can focus on is how her cancer is spreading and I'm getting closer– too close, to losing my best friend to cancer. She's been with me throughout it all and I refuse to be absent throughout her hardships.

That's what friends are for after all.

Definitely, not for getting revenge on anyone who hurts you.

All of us begin to sit down around the fancy wooden table as Nashwa sets the food she made down in front of us. There's a table piece in the centre of the table making me feel like we're at a bougie dinner. The wooden table is literally made out of mahogany.

My eyes catch sight of the homemade pizza that has chicken tikka on and it makes my mouth water. It also has sweetcorn on but I'm not quite fussed about that.

Sitting down in my seat next to Grisha, I look over my shoulder and spot Sasha walking over with a steak knife in her hand. Shit.

Grisha is scooping some food out into my plate when Sasha comes between us. She slams her knife down, digging it into the mahogany table, narrowing her eyes on Grisha.

Grisha doesn't jump or startle. He slowly turns his head to her, with a confused look on his face.

"I've thought about this," she gestures to us, "about you two. And I've decided if you hurt her again, you will feel this," she trails her finger across the serrated edge of the knife, "end your ability to leave a legacy."

My jaw drops. "Sasha!"

She responds by wrapping her elbow around my neck casually and ruffling my hair. "What?" she smiles.

"What the fuck, Sasha?"

And that, is Sasha Petrov for you. Fearless.

My eyes scour my surroundings every second and anxiety has my spine straightened with tension. My clammy fingers dig under my thigh as my leg shakes with an unstoppable force.

But it's okay because Sasha knew better than to bring me here and leave me waiting outside here alone. Nashwa and Feliks are here with me too. They're playing a game with a packet of Skittles they bought.