Zayn pov:
It all felt like a dream when she fell.
One moment she was next to me, her feeble body hidden behind that red scarf, her presence illuminating even the darkest of evenings. The next, she crumpled.
She just... fell.
There was no build-up. There was no signs that anything was amiss. Her legs buckled underneath her, and I was able to catch her before her body kissed the pavement. I could barely comprehend what I was witnessing. She was breathing staccato, her skin was ghostly white, and her eyes were half-mooned.
"Y/N!" I shouted, voice shaking. "Y/N!"
I rubbed her shoulder gently, needing, begging for anything that would tell me she was okay. But her body didn't respond. The surface of her chest trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly. Her lips parted, like she was taking tiny breaths, each one coming in bursts of air. But she wasn't here. Not all the way.
"Come on, Y/N." I whispered. "Stay with me."
I didn't think. I didn't take time to process. My heart was racing, my mind so frantic it couldn't form any clarity. I just acted.
I picked her up in my arms - it was a surreal feeling to have her body in my hands, feeling the weight of her body - too light, too fragile, like carrying something so delicate it might evaporate from existence any second. I didn't care about anything around me. I didn't care if the festival was still going on, if people were looking, if Sylus was somewhere with Liya. It didn't matter. It was just me and her, and the deafening silence between her breaths.
I raced her to the car. My hands rocked on the steering wheel so badly from shaking that I almost lost control of the vehicle. I glanced at her every few seconds to see if she had moved, or if she had taken another breath. She hadn't. Her eyes were closed. Her face was pale. She was slipping.
"She's not stable," I finally managed to say, my voice barely audible. "Congestive cardiomyopathy . Stage two. Her heart rate is too low. She... she is barely holding on. Please, do something."
I couldn't understand what was happening to me. Why was this happening to her? Why was she fighting it alone? I was supposed to be here to help her. I was supposed to protect her. I felt weak, incapable of keeping her safe even for five minutes.
The nurses were quick and efficient, but me I was supposed to be her doctor more than a coward lover. I rush towards the operating room and change my clothes. My whole body was shivering somehow I am trying to control it, I was trying to hold myself so I can save her. I suggested CABG for her I am so scared but can't let my self down again infront of her.
I can't even describe to myself what I am feeling by performing surgery on her. That's not how she was she shouldn't be like this, she don't deserve this. My mind went blank only the body was working just to safe her. After performing so many surgeries this is was the toughest.
After 6 hours I sat down when she was out danger finally I can breath. I breath so hard. After catching my breath I just pray good one more time.
"Please give her strength please I beg you". My tears rolls down. The nurses shift her to the ICU.
When I finally allowed myself to go in, I hurried over to her, interlocking her cold hand with mine.
Her fingers were ice cold. Too cold for my liking. I rubbed her fingers between my own, hoping to warm her up a little. I wanted her to feel that she wasn't alone. I'm sure my own breath was shallow, I continued to whisper to her, even though I don't know if she could hear me.
"Come on Y/N," I pleaded softly, my voice breaking, "Stay with me. You're strong. You've always been strong. Don't leave me, don't leave us."
I felt the catch in my voice, the growing desperation in my chest. I couldn't lose her. Not like this. Not with so much left unspoken.
I knew she was in a bad way, but I wasn't ready for certain. Not yet.
The quiver of my voice fell short of the sound that resonated from my throat, and the feeling of my heart rising in my chest made it hard to breathe. I couldn't lose her, could I? Not this way, and with so much left unsaid.
I had to accept the reality that she was.., but I was not ready. Not yet.
Her chest rose and fell, but barely, and when it did it had to have barely gone even higher. The heart monitor was still making beeping noises, but it still wasn't enough. Not for her.
"Please," I managed to breathe out, a whisper to myself. "Just breathe."
As I pressed my forehead to her hand, her skin was ice cold. I just needed to hear her breathe. Unlike my heart, she deserved more than shallow breaths. It felt like my heartbeat was breaking with every breath and every moment I was losing her, Little by little, and I couldn't do anything to stop it.
I reached into my shirt, my fingers riffling through the silver chain around my neck. The Holy Cross felt cool on my chest as I brought it out and grabbed at it tightly in my hand. I did not even know what I was praying for; I just wanted to utter a prayer, do something, have something to hold onto.
"God..." I said, under my breath and between my clenched teeth. "Please. One more breath. Just one more. Don't take her from me."
I squeezed my eyes shut, absorbing the pressure of the cross on my palm. The edges were digging, but I didn't care. I needed something to hold tight to; something to keep me in this moment.
"Please," I continued, my voice cracking. "One more breath. Just one."
Then, almost as if it were some sort of magic, her chest began to rise; a small rise, but a rise nonetheless.
I felt my heart stop.
"Thank you," I whispered throat tight with relief.
But it wasn't enough. I needed more. I needed her to keep breathing.
"God, please...," I whispered again, squeezing my hand around the cross. "Please... just give her one more. Just one more. Don't take her from me."
The breathing was still too shallow but it was still there. It wasn't right, but it was there. It was a sign.
I wasn't going to let go of her hand. I was staying close. Every second, each movement - everything felt so fragile, so delicate. I didn't know how long I was like that. Hours? Days? I had lost track of time.
But I did stay. I didn't sleep. I didn't leave.
I prayed. I begged.
For one more breath. And then another.
God didn't take her yet. I wasn't going to lose her like this. Not when there was still so much between us to finish. Not when she was still fighting.
I plead with nothing but the cosmos to grant me another.
Then another.
And another.
So that I could hold her again.
So that she could finally gaze into my eyes, and I could speak to her from my heart all the things I didn't have the chance to say.
Just one more.
One more time.
To be continued.....