The day began with a thick, gray sky hanging low over the city, mirroring the heaviness in Emmanuel's chest. At the hospital, the sterile scent greeted him and Funmi like an old, unwelcome visitor. But today was different — it was the start of the clinical trial, the sliver of hope they'd been clinging to.
Funmi sat quietly in the waiting room, her hands folded tightly on her lap. Emmanuel reached over, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Her eyes met his, flickering with uncertainty.
"We're really doing this," she whispered, her voice barely above the hum of distant conversations.
"Together," Emmanuel assured her, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.
The nurse led them into the treatment room, bright and clinical. Funmi settled into the reclined chair, and as the IV was set up, Emmanuel watched the pale liquid drip slowly, each drop a heartbeat in their fragile fight.
Days melted into weeks. The routine was exhausting — blood tests, scans, medication, and the ever-present waiting. Funmi's body betrayed her with fatigue and nausea, and some nights she woke screaming from nightmares of losing herself. Emmanuel's heart broke each time, but he never wavered.
One evening, after a long day, Funmi collapsed into Emmanuel's arms, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"I don't know if I can do this," she confessed, voice cracking. "It's too much."
He held her tighter. "You don't have to do it alone. I'm here, always."
---
The nights grew colder, both in the weather and between them. Funmi's mood was mercurial; sometimes tender and sweet, sometimes distant and unreachable. Emmanuel felt like a stranger in her eyes — a stranger who loved her desperately but didn't always know how to reach her.
One night, after a silent dinner, Emmanuel spoke softly.
"Funmi, talk to me. What are you feeling?"
She looked up, eyes glossy. "I'm scared. Not just of the illness, but of what it means — for me, for us."
He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Whatever happens, we face it together. No matter what."
She smiled weakly, and for a moment, the weight lifted.
---
One rainy afternoon, Emmanuel and Funmi sat in her small living room, the sound of rain tapping against the windowpane. A classic movie played quietly on the old television.
"Remember when we first watched this?" Emmanuel said, reaching out to brush a curl from her face.
Funmi laughed softly. "You nearly set the kitchen on fire trying to make popcorn."
He grinned. "I was trying to impress you."
She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "You don't have to try anymore. I love you, Emmanuel."
His throat tightened. "I love you too, all of you."
---
The clinical trial brought moments of hope and moments of crushing disappointment. One day, after a follow-up appointment, the doctor gave them guarded news.
"The trial is showing some promising signs, but it's too early to say. We need to continue monitoring."
Funmi bit her lip, trying to keep hope alive. Emmanuel put an arm around her, his presence a fortress.
---
Late one night, Emmanuel sat alone in his apartment, scrolling through photos on his phone — snapshots of smiles, stolen kisses, and laughter. His thumb paused over a picture of them dancing in the rain, carefree and alive.
His phone buzzed. A message from David, his closest friend.
"How are you holding up?"
Emmanuel typed quickly.
"Some days are harder than others, but I'm still here. For her."
David's reply came immediately.
"You're stronger than you know. Keep fighting."
---
As weeks turned to months, the toll was visible. Funmi's hair thinned, her skin paled, but her spirit — though battered — remained.
One morning, Emmanuel awoke to find Funmi gone from their bed. Panic surged until he found her on the balcony, staring at the sunrise.
She turned, tears streaming. "I'm scared, Emmanuel. Scared of the unknown, scared of losing myself."
He crossed the distance, taking her hands in his. "We don't know what tomorrow holds, but I do know one thing — I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."
She clung to him, the fragile thread between them holding strong.
---
Then came the night Emmanuel dreaded — the call from the hospital with news.
"The trial's latest results… they show progression. The illness is advancing faster than we hoped."
Emmanuel sat beside Funmi, the silence between them thick with grief. Yet beneath the sorrow, a fierce love glowed.
"We still have us," Emmanuel whispered.
Funmi nodded, tears falling. "And that's everything."
---
That night, they held each other, two souls bound tightly in the face of an uncertain future.
The edge of tomorrow was sharp and daunting, but together, they would walk it — step by step, heartbeat by heartbeat.