Beyond Time’s Embrace

As the serene days of my childhood faded away, the winds of transformation commenced their journey through Atlas and myself, the inseparable duo. However, my experience was distinct. I never suffered from any illness during my childhood or even teen years. My immune system stood as the strongest among my family members, Nevertheless, a few days ago, I unexpectedly began to feel bouts of nausea, which soon escalated to the point of me vomiting blood. Despite my growing concern, I choose to keep this distressing matter to myself, refraining from sharing it with anyone, not even Atlas, my best friend.

Days transformed into weeks, and I sensed my strength waning more than before, my illness persisting and casting a shadow over my once carefree life. Eventually, Atlas accompanied me to the doctor after witnessing me vomit blood one day after school. He was deeply concerned. However, as I had anticipated, the doctors struggled to identify the root cause or even the name of my condition, so they said. Yet, throughout this ordeal, Atlas remained steadfast by my side. He became a constant source of light in my life, undergoing a transformation after my illness struck. He became more cautious, especially with the people he hung around, which brought me immense joy. Within the depths of our friendship, a silent tempest of emotions began to brew. As the weeks turned into months, my health deteriorated further, causing me to become more irritable and distance myself from Atlas. Consequently, the moments we once shared – the laughter, heartfelt conversations, and tender gestures – vanished into thin air. He even shouted at me, claiming that everything he had said and done meant nothing. Witnessing him revert back to the reckless teenager who associated with the wrong crowd pained me more than anything.

 A year elapsed, my physique and even my heart matured, yet my illness persisted, defying all my efforts to eradicate it. Despite my best attempts to maintain regular attendance at school, my breaks to the restroom grew longer over the days. Concerned and irritated dispatched fellow students to check on me, only to find me vomiting blood. However, this time, something peculiar caught my attention as I choked on an object that eventually fell into the toilet. My heart raced when I realized it was a petal, albeit a small one. I had never heard of anyone regurgitating petals before, and this newfound phenomenon filled me with greater worry than ever before. Upon returning to class, I struggled to focus as my head throbbed and my stomach twisted into knots. Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, and I rose from my seat, making my way out of the classroom. As I reached my locker and closed it, preparing to leave, I was confronted by the sight of Atlas and a girl not far from me, their lips locked in an embrace. It felt as though my heart plummeted into my stomach, and a deafening ringing filled my ears. I had anticipated this moment for months, even years, but that did little to alleviate the pain and dread that washed over me. 

Following the argument, we had a while ago; our communication became scarce. Even still, I would occasionally send a text asking how he was, but apart from that, we barely spoke. But things took a turn for the worse when he blocked me after sending a message that read, “Stop texting. I don’t want to talk Silvia.” The fact he used my first name made it clear he truly meant what he said. He had usually referred to me as “Silv” or even “Via”. Despite the distance that came between us, I still cherished the moments we shared, especially those sweet nothings he’d tell me, now I’m thinking did he ever mean it? My heart ached, and my soul longed for him. How can I possibly move on from my one true love? 

As I stood there, watching him engage in a passionate makeout session that wasn’t with me, I couldn’t bear to witness anymore. I swiftly left the school, feeling a mix of emotions consume me. Once I arrived home, I rushed to the bathroom, feeling a familiar ting of nausea overcome me once again. This time there were more petals than before.

They exhibited a variety of hues – red, pink, and white – yet they were all petals belonging to different flowers. Lying in bed, I sensed a chill permeating my skin. Despite my feeble condition, I summoned the strength to rise and approach my computer my computer. In the search bar, I entered the query, “Throwing up petals.” As I perused the screen, bold letters caught my attention, revealing the term “Hanahaki Disease.” Hours passed as I delved deeper into my research, my stomach twisting into knots with each new information I came across about the illness. This was the affliction I was suffering from. Why hadn’t the doctors diagnosed it? With just one search, I uncovered the truth. Were they concealing it from me hoping it would vanish on its own? Confusion and profound sense of betrayal washed over me.

The reason behind it was unrequited feelings. As I pieced everything together, my mind whirled with confusion and hurt. The doctors had hoped that the person I had feelings for would notice and reciprocate, leading to a fading of my illness, that’s why they kept it from me. But I knew Atlas didn’t love me the way I loved him. Tears welled up in my eyes as I found myself once again in front of the toilet, expelling more petals and even blood from my mouth. The pain was indescribable, worse than death itself. With what little strength I had left, I attempted to rise from the bathroom floor, but my efforts were in vain, falling back down on the floor. Desperate, I reached for my phone, my hand trembling as I dialed Atlas’s number. It rang for what felt like an eternity before I was met with a voicemail, causing another wave of tears to escape from my eyes. I sobbed on the bathroom floor, feeling as though I had just lost someone I loved dearly to death, a pain that mirrored my current situation. I had lost Atlas, it felt as though he had passed away. However, I couldn’t blame him entirely. During our argument, I had uttered hurtful words that I wished I could take back. It was the heat of the moment, I couldn’t control myself, I wasn’t thinking then.

Unbeknownst to me, I had inadvertently left a voicemail in which I was sobbing uncontrollably. This caught his attention, as my cries conveyed a sense of brokenness and pain. Suddenly, he burst into my room with my sister yelling his name, clearly not wanting him to be there. He entered the bathroom and immediately scanned my shattered state, the remnants of petals and blood in the toilet, and the tears still streaming down my face, leaving my eyes bloodshot. Despite my tear-filled vision, I could discern a sight softening in his expression as he reached down and lifted me, carrying me to my bed with utmost care, this was the most he had shown to me in a long time. He gently laid me down and proceeded to change my soiled clothes. Strangely enough, I didn’t mind. Despite everything that had transpired, he still held the special title of being the love of my life. It didn’t matter to me if he saw me in a vulnerable state, clad in minimal clothing, almost completely exposed to him.

After some time, he spoke softly, “Rest, Silv. Close your eyes.” He encouraged me. Silv. The endearing nickname that always made my heart skip a beat; I cherished nicknames more than anything. Especially his nicknames. I could sense my anticipation rising. In that moment, all I yearned for was his embrace, my entire being yearned for his touch, and he could see it in my eyes as I gazed at him. A sigh escaped his lips as he shifted and positioned himself behind me, holding me close as his arm wrapped around me.  For the first time in a year, I felt secure and embraced by warmth. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep, only to wake up and find him gone. The hope that had filled my being was once again snatched away from me. I no longer could muster the strength to get out of bed and attend school.

Weeks went by, and the school days I had missed were starting to have consequences. Numerous calls flooded my mom's voicemail box, but she was always occupied and rarely had time for me. It had been that way since I was a child. Eventually, she answered and listened to the principal’s calm voice as he expressed concern about the significant amount of school I was and had been missing. My mother had no idea I was sick, and I hadn’t even confided in my sister about the true nature of the illness I was suffering from, which led her to side with our mother when she finally arrived after the long plane ride she took her to my sisters’ apartment. Bursting into my room, my sister, Jan, followed closely behind with her arms crossed and a worried look on her face. 

“Weeks, Silvia?! Seriously?! I didn’t raise you to be like this. You know better!” she shouted at me. My head was already pounding, and her yelling only made it worsen. Throughout those weeks, my breathing had become slow and feeble, and I felt myself gradually shutting down with no control over it. Jane supported our mother’s stance.

“I concur. It is not feasible for me to provide round-the-clock care for you, I have work. Silvia, you cannot continue staying at home.” Her voice carried a hint of sadness behind the clear anger in her voice. The room fell into silence, leaving me unable to articulate the overwhelming emotions that engulfed me. After what seemed like an eternity, I mustered the strength to speak. “I think I’m dying Mom.” I managed to utter, my voice trembling as tears streamed down my face. Without even glancing at my sister or mother, I could sense the drastic change in their expressions. My mother knew it was serious seeing as I never called her “Mom”, not once in my life. Their eyes widened and their hearts shattered, evident from their shaky and slow breaths. My mother then approached me and placed a soft hand on my shoulder. “Come on. We’re going to the hospital,” she whispered, compelling me to rise. I was so feeble that it felt as if my legs had ceased to function, but with the support of my mother and sister, they somehow managed to guide me to the car. Before I knew it, I found myself lying in a hospital bed, with the darkness of night descending upon the city. 

I had no desire to spend my remaining days confined to a hospital bed, with IVs coursing unknown substances through my body and nurses constantly monitoring me. It wasn’t the way any 18-year-old would want to spend their remaining time. So, I gathered the strength to get out of bed, slowly and quietly making my way towards the stairs. I found a back exit and slipped away into the cold night, feeling the chill even more intensely due to my illness and the thin hospital gown I was wearing. My legs seemed to have a mind of their own, leading me to Atlas’s house. Standing there, trembling from the cold, I whispered his name, desperately longing for him but too afraid and simply too exhausted to approach and knock on his door. To my surprise, luck was on my side as he emerged from his house, carrying the trash. His eyes widened when he saw me and dropped the trash in shock. He approached me slowly, his gaze scanning my frail and broken form. Over time, my sickness had taken a toll on my appearance – my skin pale, my nose and eyes red, my skinny frame, and my limbs weak from my deteriorating health. Deep down, I knew wasn’t meant for this lifetime. The moment I vomited my first petal, I understood that not everyone was destined to live a long and happy life, to witness the passage of time and experience the joys of existence. All I wanted was a happily ever after with him, someone I could not have, someone I yearned to hold and love. He had become an entire story to me, but as years went by and we grew, I became nothing more than a mere sentence to him. Collapsing into his arms, he too fell to his knees, holding me tightly.

He anxiously inquired, “Silv, w…what happened? Were you hospitalized? Are you okay?” This was the greatest display of concern he had given me since our argument. It always circled back to that fight; the mistakes we committed that brought us to this point. I couldn’t ask him to reciprocate my feelings, knowing they would be insincere, and I couldn’t undergo surgery to remove the flower that had spread to my lungs and gradually to my heart, which I felt slowing down my heartbeat. I couldn’t have my feelings drained during the procedure, not when he was still the love of my life, despite him not feeling the same. Love compels us to do irrational actions, doesn’t it?

“I choose to love you. E…Even in the face of your anger and indifference towards me…I choose you. But you did not choose me. Maybe I’ll get another shot in a parallel universe.” It was a struggle for me to articulate these words, as they were filled with vulnerability and pain. Nevertheless, I spoke them with utmost sincerity. Just as I revealed the emotions I had been hiding, I suddenly became overwhelmed and vomited a bouquet of flowers. This was it; this was a sign my life was coming to an abrupt end. It was time and both ends of the rope representing my existence were held by me, and only me. My heart began to falter, and my lungs ceased to provide the necessary air I needed to live. As my eyes slowly closed, I felt the sensation of his hand striking my face multiple times and his tears cascading onto my cheeks, all while I heard his muffled words of a confession along with sirens slowly coming close to our location. But it was too late, he said it too late. I was dying in his embrace, and I had no complaints. The person I loved most in this world held me as I departed from it, and still, I had no regrets about my choice. Finally, I was gone, leaving behind only my lifeless and limp body in his arms. Even though we were merely friends in this cruel universe, I hope in another one we were more.