The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant buzz of traffic outside. Ethan had spent the day moving slowly, every step a careful battle against the exhaustion that weighed his body down. By evening, even standing felt impossible.
He had prepared dinner, of course—rice, tilapia, eggs—placing it carefully on the table. But Luna wasn't home yet, and the ache in his side had grown unbearable. His chest tightened, his breaths came shallow, and for the first time in months, he wondered if he could make it through the night alone.
He tried to rest on the couch, but the pain intensified, spreading like fire through his abdomen. His vision blurred slightly, and sweat beaded on his forehead. He reached for the camera, almost instinctively, adjusting it to face the bed, even though Luna wouldn't be home for hours. Capturing her life had become a ritual, a silent tether to her, and he wasn't ready to let go.
Then it happened.
A sharp, unbearable pain shot through his side. He gasped, gripping the armrest of the couch, his knees trembling. His body betrayed him, collapsing onto the floor. The food he had prepared remained untouched, the plates cold. He could barely move, could barely breathe, but he refused to call for help.
She doesn't need to see me like this, he thought, teeth gritted against the pain. She doesn't need to worry.
Hours passed. The city outside pulsed with life, but Ethan was trapped in his own private hell, curled on the floor, whispering into the darkness.
I love you… I'll always stay…
When Luna finally returned in the early hours of the morning, laughing with Maya, she didn't notice him on the floor at first. Her heels clicked across the apartment, her voice full of excitement, completely oblivious.
"Ethan?" she called, looking around.
He tried to lift his head, smile faint and shaky, but the pain was overwhelming. "I'm… fine," he whispered, voice barely audible.
Luna rolled her eyes, dismissing him. "You're always dramatic. I'm tired, I need sleep," she said, collapsing onto the bed without another glance.
Ethan pressed record on the camera, capturing her, capturing himself, capturing the final fragments of a life spent loving quietly, enduring silently.
He had collapsed, but he would not let her see his weakness. Not yet.
Because even broken, even in pain, even on the floor with his body failing him, he would stay.
He would love her… until the end.