I don't want to lose you..."

"

I could have reacted. I could have guessed earlier. I really could have…

We were madly in love. Day by day, our feelings for each other grew stronger. A day spent apart was a day wasted.

I knew something was definitely wrong. When I asked why he never exercised in PE, he dismissed me with some incomprehensible explanation. He claimed he was off work because something was wrong inside… he didn't really want to explain. He said it was nothing serious. I believed him, and right then I could have done something, reacted somehow… but no… I was just happy to be with him.

The first sign came about a month later. We were sitting in "our" spot in the park. Among the trees, where few people saw us. It was May. Exceptionally warm. I grabbed his hands. They were terribly cold.

"Sweetie… why are your hands so cold?" I asked. "

I'm dying," he said. He looked me in the eye, but said it so lightly that I didn't take it personally. Besides... then he immediately added, "I'm kidding." I told him not to say that again. And he didn't...

The next, vague attempts to make me understand what was happening took place on a very rainy day. We hid in my room. He put his arms around me from behind and looked out the window. We remained silent. We felt so good...

"I don't want to lose you..." he said suddenly. I turned away, alarmed by his sad voice. But he closed his eyes and nuzzled into my neck. That's when I started to get seriously worried. But I didn't press on. I hoped it was just my sick imagination. That nothing bad was happening, and he was just having a bad day.

Everything became clear in the summer. It was the end of August. The sun had been shining brightly for several days now. It was very muggy. A storm was undoubtedly brewing. However, absorbed in each other, we didn't notice the dark clouds approaching from the distance. When we realized it, it was starting to drizzle. Suddenly, a cloudburst hit. We ran towards me. It was closer. We held hands tightly. We burst into my room, soaking wet. I smiled broadly, wanting to joke about our adventure, but when I saw what was happening to him, I froze. He was bent over, clutching his heart tightly. He was trying to calm his breathing. He was clearly choking. "

What's going on?!" I screamed in panic.

"Nothing..." he whispered with difficulty. "Get me... a glass of water..."

I ran to the kitchen. When I returned, he was already sitting in the armchair. He was breathing almost normally. He drank some water. I looked at him, expecting an explanation. But before either of us could say anything, his phone rang.

"Yes? No... no, Mom... everything's okay..." he was clearly trying to reassure his mother. When he finished, I crossed my arms.

"Will you finally tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing, honey, it's just..." he began, but I grabbed his hands. I looked him straight in the eyes.

"Tell me the truth," I said.

The truth had killed a part of me. The truth, which he told me immediately afterward, sent everything around me reeling. He was sick. My greatest fears had come true. He really was sick. The doctors had given him another year, as long as he took it easy.

From then on, everything had changed. I made sure he didn't overexert himself. I tried to prolong his life by at least a few weeks. But he was fading. There was less of him every day. In those darkest moments, he kept repeating, "I don't want to lose you." Until the very end, we loved each other with true love.

He died, and I still feel like he was next to me. Like he was my guardian angel, watching over me. And yet... he could still be here. Maybe if I had acted sooner... cared more about his health... maybe that would have made a difference? Or maybe not...