Messages I did not send you, Avery

The invisible crack

The sun filtered through the slats of the blinds, casting golden rays that seemed too weak to penetrate the chill that ran through me. Avery was lying on the sofa, pale, her eyelids closed with effort. Cold sweat beaded her forehead, and each breath was a dull moan, a sound that pierced my brain.

"Avery..." I whispered, falling to my knees beside her. "Please, darling, tell me what you need."

She didn't answer. Only a spasm of pain ran through her body and her fingers clenched at the void. I saw her withdraw, moving away from me into herself, and I knew I was losing her. Not in the distant future, but here, now, in our living room, on that sofa where we had laughed so many times.

"No... I can't lose you," I moaned, pressing her hand against my chest, as if my own heartbeat could give her strength. "Not like this."

Her eyes opened slightly, glassy, not really seeing me.

"Tom... it hurts..." Her voice was just a whisper.

Something broke inside me. Despair choked me, clouding my vision. Call an ambulance? No? She wouldn't want that again, the hospital... What to do? My mind was a whirlwind of helpless panic. I picked up the phone with trembling hands and dialled her parents.

"Come. Please, come now," I managed to say, my voice unrecognisable, broken. "She's not winning. The disease is winning."

I hung up and went back to her. I didn't know what to do. I stroked her hair, talked to her nonstop, swore I was with her, told her about our first day at the beach, anything to anchor her to this world. I watched as the pain drew tense lines on her face, as her skin turned ashen. She was the most important person in my life, and I was a helpless spectator to her torment.

"Tom... I'm here..." she whispered, barely audible. "No... you don't have to... be afraid."

But I was afraid. I was afraid of losing her. I was afraid that every moment together would be our last. I hugged her tighter, as if that could convey my determination to fight for her, and I closed my eyes, trying to hold back my tears.

The sound of the door was my salvation. Her parents burst into the house. There were no greetings, only looks filled with a shared terror that instantly united us. We carried her to the bedroom with silent urgency.

The crisis did not magically cease. Her mother lay down beside her, wrapping her body around her, rocking her gently as she had when she was a child, whispering words that only a mother knows how to say. Her father, his jaw clenched and his eyes shining, held her hand with a strength that seemed to want to transfer his entire life to her. I clung to her other hand, on the other side of the bed, completing the circle.

Endless minutes passed. Slowly, very slowly, Avery's tense body began to relax. The spasms subsided, her breathing changed from desperate gasps to deep, weary sighs. It wasn't that the pain had disappeared, but rather that she had surrendered to exhaustion and the wall of love that surrounded her.

I leaned over her, my forehead touching hers, and whispered through clenched teeth, in a voice I didn't recognise as my own, filled with impotent rage and absolute devotion:

"Fight, Avery. Don't give up. I'm here. Always."

I remained there, kneeling beside the bed, her cold fingers between mine, watching as heavy, exhausting sleep finally overcame her. It wasn't peace I saw on her face, but the emptiness left behind by the battle. And I knew, with a certainty that chilled my soul, that this would be the new normal. That the cracks were getting wider, and that our love, however immense, could no longer cover them all.

(***)

That day I felt like a frightened child, not knowing what to do or how to react.

Avery... seeing you break down like that tore me apart. Feeling your life slip away broke me into a thousand pieces. I never knew that love could hurt so much. That it would be like this: a tight fist around my heart, drowning in fear.

I miss you. I miss you more than words can say.

—Draft saved: 28 February.