They hid in an abandoned construction site on the edge of the city.
Kavya tore strips from her shirt to bandage Aarav's shoulder. The wound was bleeding heavily, but it wasn't fatal. The bullet had gone straight through.
"You need a hospital," she said.
"No hospitals. They'll find us."
"You'll get an infection."
"Then I'll get an infection."
She looked at him. Her hands were covered in his blood.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked.
"Doing what?"
"Dying for me."
"I'm not dying."
"You could be."
"But I'm not."
"That's not an answer."
He reached up with his good arm and touched her face.
"Because you're worth it," he said.
She closed her eyes.
When she opened them, she was crying.
The fever came at dawn.
Aarav's skin burned. His thoughts scattered. He drifted in and out of consciousness, mumbling things that didn't make sense.
Kavya stayed awake.
She cleaned his wound. Changed his bandages. Sponged his forehead with water from a broken pipe.
And she talked to him.
Kept him grounded.
Pulled him back every time he started to slip away.
"You can't leave me," she whispered. "Not now. Not after everything."
"—not leaving—"
"Promise me."
"—promise—"
"Stay."
"—staying—"
She held his hand.
And waited.