Elanor awoke to the first light of dawn filtering through the curtains of his bedroom, casting a soft, muted glow across the room. For a moment, he lay still, his mind groggy and disoriented, his body heavy with the remnants of fever. The air was cool, the blanket wrapped snugly around him, but something was different. There was a warmth, a weight on his chest that wasn't just the blanket. Slowly, he blinked his eyes open, his gaze falling on the soft, tousled hair of the woman asleep on his chest.
Raya.
His heart skipped a beat as he took in the sight of her, lying peacefully beside him, her head resting on his chest, her hand still holding his. Memories of the previous night came flooding back—her voice on the phone, the worry he had heard in it, and then the haze of fever as she had helped him to bed. But he hadn't expected her to stay, let alone fall asleep beside him.
Elanor felt a mixture of emotions wash over him—gratitude, surprise, and a deep, lingering affection that he had buried for so long. He hadn't realized just how much he had missed her, how much he had needed her, until she was here, right beside him.
For a while, he just lay there, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her body comforting against his. He didn't want to move, didn't want to wake her, afraid that if he did, this fragile, peaceful moment would shatter.
But as he lay there, his mind began to clear, and with it came the realization of just how sick he had been. His body still ached, though the fever had broken, leaving him feeling weak and drained. The memories of his fevered dreams were hazy, but he recalled snippets—fragments of words, things he had said, things he hadn't meant to say. He had spoken her name, confessed things he hadn't intended to, things he had kept buried deep inside for years.
Elanor's heart clenched at the thought. Had she heard him? Had she understood? He wasn't sure if he was ready to face that, wasn't sure if he was ready to explain the things he had said in his fevered state. But he knew that he couldn't avoid it forever. Raya had come to him, had taken care of him when he needed it most, and that meant something. It meant that she cared, that there was still something between them worth exploring.
As if sensing his thoughts, Raya stirred, her hand tightening slightly around his as she slowly began to wake. Elanor held his breath, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to handle this unexpected intimacy. But then she lifted her head, her eyes fluttering open, and their gazes met.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Raya blinked sleepily, as if trying to remember where she was, then realization dawned, and she quickly sat up, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
"Elanor, I—" she began, but he quickly shook his head, cutting her off.
"It's okay," he said, his voice hoarse from the lingering effects of the fever. "You don't have to explain. I... I'm glad you stayed."
Raya looked relieved, though there was still a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. "You were really sick," she said softly, her gaze flicking over his face as if checking to make sure he was okay. "I didn't want to leave you alone."
"Thank you," Elanor replied, his voice sincere. "I don't remember much of last night, but... I'm grateful you were here."
Raya nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "How are you feeling now?"
"Better," Elanor said, though the weakness in his limbs told him he wasn't out of the woods yet. "The fever seems to have broken, but I still feel pretty worn out."
"You should rest," Raya said quickly, her tone firm but gentle. "You've been pushing yourself too hard, Elanor. You need to take it easy for a while."
Elanor opened his mouth to protest, to insist that he was fine, but the look in her eyes stopped him. She was right, and he knew it. He had been pushing himself too hard, ignoring the signs that his body was giving him, and now he was paying the price.
"Okay," he said quietly, his voice laced with resignation. "I'll rest."
Raya seemed satisfied with his response, and she stood up, smoothing down her clothes as she did. "I'll make you something to eat," she said, her tone gentle. "You need to get your strength back."
Elanor watched her as she left the room, feeling a strange mixture of emotions. He was grateful for her care, for her presence, but there was also a sense of vulnerability that made him uneasy. He wasn't used to letting people in, wasn't used to showing weakness, and now, with Raya here, he felt exposed in a way he hadn't anticipated.
But as he lay there, listening to the sounds of her moving around in the kitchen, he couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth, of comfort. It had been a long time since someone had taken care of him like this, since someone had been there for him when he needed it most. And that meant something. It meant that Raya still cared, that there was still a connection between them, even after all these years.
As the minutes passed, the smell of something warm and comforting began to fill the apartment—soup, by the scent of it, and Elanor felt a pang of hunger. He hadn't realized just how empty his stomach was until now, the thought of food suddenly appealing in a way it hadn't been for days.
When Raya returned, she was carrying a tray with a bowl of soup, a glass of water, and a few slices of toast. She set it down on the bedside table, then helped Elanor sit up, propping a few pillows behind him to support his back.
"Here," she said, handing him the bowl. "It's just some chicken soup, but it should help."
Elanor took the bowl, feeling a rush of gratitude as he inhaled the fragrant steam. "Thank you, Raya. This is... really kind of you."
Raya shrugged, though her smile was warm. "It's nothing. I just want to make sure you're okay."
They fell into a comfortable silence as Elanor began to eat, the warmth of the soup soothing his throat and easing the lingering ache in his body. Raya sat beside him, her presence a quiet comfort as she watched him with a mixture of concern and affection.
After a while, Elanor set the empty bowl aside and leaned back against the pillows, feeling more relaxed than he had in days. The food had helped, the fever had broken, and with Raya here, the world didn't seem quite so overwhelming.
"Raya," Elanor began, his voice soft as he looked at her. "I... I don't know what I would have done without you last night. You didn't have to do any of this, but you did, and I'm really grateful."
Raya's gaze softened, her hand reaching out to gently squeeze his. "You don't have to thank me, Elanor. You were there for me when I needed it, back in college, and even now... I've always known I could count on you. So of course, I'll be here for you when you need me."
Elanor's heart tightened at her words, a flood of emotions welling up inside him. He had spent so long distancing himself from her, trying to protect himself from the pain of what they had lost, but now, with her sitting beside him, he realized how much he had missed her, how much he still cared.
"There's something I need to tell you," Elanor said, his voice low, as if speaking any louder would break the fragile moment between them. "Last night... when I was sick... I said some things. Things that I've kept buried for a long time."
Raya's expression grew more serious, her eyes searching his face as if trying to anticipate what he would say next. "What did you say?"
Elanor hesitated, his gaze dropping to their intertwined hands. "I said... that I miss you. That I'm sorry for the way things ended between us. I didn't mean to say it out loud, but... I guess, in my fevered state, I couldn't keep it in anymore."
Raya's breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she was silent, processing his words. Then, she reached out, gently lifting his chin so that their eyes met.
"Do you mean it?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with vulnerability. "Do you really miss me, Elanor?"
Elanor looked into her eyes, seeing the raw emotion there—the same emotion that had been buried in his own heart for so long. He knew that this was the moment of truth, the moment that would determine where they went from here.
"Yes," he said quietly, his voice filled with honesty. "I miss you, Raya. I've missed you for a long time."
Raya's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she bit her lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. "I've missed you too, Elanor," she whispered. "I've missed you so much."
For a moment, they simply sat there, the weight of their shared history hanging between them. It was a history full of regrets, of missed opportunities, but also of deep, undeniable connection. And now, in this quiet, intimate moment, they both knew that they had a chance to rebuild what had been lost.
Elanor reached out, gently brushing a tear from Raya's cheek, his touch light and tentative. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry for the way I pushed you away. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was wrong. I should have fought harder for us."
Raya shook her head, her hand coming up to cover his. "No, Elanor. It wasn't just you. I should have fought harder too. I should have told you how much you meant to me, how much I wanted us to stay together. But I was scared... scared of losing you, scared of ruining what we had."
They sat in silence for a moment, their hands still clasped together, the weight of their shared regrets hanging in the air. But there was also a sense of hope—a feeling that, despite everything, they still had a chance to make things right.
"Maybe we can start over," Elanor said quietly, his gaze searching hers. "Maybe we can try again, take it one step at a time."
Raya's eyes softened, and she nodded slowly. "I'd like that, Elanor. I'd really like that."
For the first time in a long while, Elanor felt a sense of peace—a feeling that, despite the mistakes of the past, there was still hope for the future. He wasn't sure where they would go from here, but he knew one thing for certain: he didn't want to lose Raya again.
They spent the rest of the morning talking quietly, sharing stories of the years they had spent apart, catching up on the lives they had led without each other. It was a slow, tentative process, but with each word, each shared memory, the distance between them seemed to shrink, the connection they had once shared beginning to rekindle.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a warm, golden light across the room, Elanor felt a sense of contentment that had been missing from his life for too long. He was still weak, still recovering from the fever that had laid him low, but with Raya by his side, the world didn't seem quite so overwhelming.
When Raya finally stood to leave, Elanor felt a pang of reluctance, not wanting to let her go. But he knew she needed to get back to her own life, her own responsibilities.
"Thank you, Raya," Elanor said as she gathered her things. "Thank you for everything. I don't know what I would have done without you."
Raya smiled, a warmth in her eyes that made his heart ache with something that felt like hope. "You're welcome, Elanor. I'm glad I could be here for you."
They stood at the door for a moment, neither of them quite ready to say goodbye. But as Raya reached for the doorknob, Elanor stopped her, gently taking her hand in his.
"Can I see you again?" he asked, his voice filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.
Raya looked up at him, her expression softening. "I'd like that," she said, her voice gentle. "I'd really like that."
Elanor felt a surge of relief, a feeling of something new beginning to take shape between them. It wasn't the end of the story—not by a long shot—but it was a beginning, and that was enough for now.
As Raya left, closing the door behind her, Elanor stood in the quiet of his apartment, a sense of peace settling over him. The future was still uncertain, still full of challenges, but for the first time in a long time, he felt ready to face it.
He returned to the bedroom, the sunlight streaming through the windows casting a warm glow across the room. He lay back down on the bed, the weight of the past few days finally catching up with him, and as he closed his eyes, he felt a sense of hope, a sense of something new beginning.