5.

A week had passed—a whole long week. I had missed classes for so many days. I had been moved from ICU. They said I had to have surgery. The only way to survive, even then only if I was lucky. The thing about me was that I didn't complain much, but god had infected the only thing that I needed the most. My failure of eyes hurt me emotionally, and if possible, more than physically. My world existed in books and the infection in my eyes prevented me from it. It hurt. I had been away from TFIOS for so much time, it felt like a personal loss.

On top of everything, I was afraid about the expenses of this hospital. By the looks of it, it was the most expensive one I had ever heard of, and I was afraid, I couldn't pay for it.

Couldn't the guy that brought me here search for a cheaper one?

The nurses everyday came, did their everyday work, gave me a pitiful smile and left. I was recovering slowly they said. I didn't believe them though. They were just comforting me with false hope to try for me to fight and leave in this false universe, but I felt like the world had stopped with me stuck here. I couldn't even think about the guy who brought me here cause I was too preoccupied with the emergency calls. So, when the nurse visited me to give me my lunch, I asked her about the guy.

"Er...can I please get out of here...or perhaps see the guy who brought me here before I lose my vision," I asked. The nurse smiled.

"I would love to," she said. "But I think it's his place to tell you. He made me swear I won't tell."

What the heck

"This is new and wrong," I said.

"And so is your disease, my dear."

"My life is wrong."

"The way you look at it is wrong.'

Tell me, how will I look at it when I don't have eyes to see?"

"....This is silly, Isabelle"

"That's called dark humour," I said laughing. She smiled.

"When will I be out?" I asked while taking a bite from some boiled vegetables. "Oh come on, I can't spend the last gift of my vision to observe the walls of a dark hospital."

"Stop saying the word 'last', for god's sake." said a deep, annoyed voice, but familiar voice.

My heart jumped.

"YOU??!" I pulled the blankets above my head, I didn't want him to see me like this...broken and scattered. I heard him sigh and chuckle. The nurse laughed.

"Yeah me. Don't tell me you love seeing darkness more than me," he said.

"I'd rather you not see me like this," I mumbled.

"Why may I ask?"

"I am...broken.."

"Why do you think I care?"

"I do"

"I don't"

"But it feels so...weak," I mumbled back.

He scoffed, "Seriously?? What is weak in this? You are the strongest right now...fighting through this."

I sighed in frustration and pulled my blanket down.

"Fighting through this?" I said, "There is no 'fighting through', Edward. You don't have a choice. You don't fight this disease. You just fight the burden this human consciousness can put upon you. There is no 'through', the things are just happening and you just can't and you don't even do anything. The universe is often misinterpreted, It is nothing but seeking attention by making and unmaking all that's possible. It goes with an urge to be noticed and I don't know if fortunately or unfortunate, but we live in a universe devoted to creation and eradication of awareness. I don't really know if I am strong. I-I...I am weak, don't you see? I don't have a framed story...framed life...I am scattered, like an unorganized house."

There was silence in which he just looked at me. Not judging or analysing sort of looking but a calm and knowing look.

"And my love, when has a perfect-looking house ever given us comfort?" he said. "Haven't we all preferred houses with a warm fireplace with books littered on the floor, things unorganized and a cosy blanket lying unfolded on the sofa?"

And it was my turn to look at him now. No knowing look, no analyzing look but I looked at him with tears...pure tears. I didn't cry much, but when I did...it was bad. I liked the fact he didn't move. He just looked at me from there. I dunno if I was correct but it felt like he hugged me...just from his eyes...I dunno if even being hugged physically would have given my that comfort.

I wiped my tears after a while.

"Your lips laugh sadly when your eyes break down." He said, looking into my eyes.

"I have my logic," I replied.

"I love your logic." He said, with his crooked smile.

"Well...my body and my mind act accordingly. My heart tries to conceal the sadness...the tears falling...by 'laughing'...the spectacle that people think is used only for happiness."

"And yet you have so unknowingly revealed its truth," Edward said. I looked at him confused.

"Truth?" I asked, shaking my head. "It's just an observation."

"Nah truth." He said, readjusting himself on the chair. "Laughing is perhaps not a spectacle that is only used for happiness. It is often used when you are the saddest, for you feel like laughing at yourself...for no particular reason but you still feel like it. You try to conceal your tears with laughs, but do you know, Isabelle Carter, that it just makes you more beautiful and even more sad at the point when you were crying?"

"I don't know..." he just shook his head and looked at the ceiling. I looked at it too. There were little encouragements written over if you looked closely. I wondered if it was for the ones who were losing themselves here on this bed. So, when they are finally closing their eyes, they read these lines...

"I got you these flowers by the way." He said holding up a bouquet of lilies. I looked at him and then at the lilies. I took them slowly and observed them.

"Light pink and white," I said. He smirked, but his hand went to the back of his head. He was nervous.

"They represent?" I asked.

"You are more intelligent, I am sure you can decode." He winked. I rolled my eyes, smiling and sniffed them. I felt the fragrance shooting through my nostrils, lightening up my brain.

"I like them," I said, smiling.

"I know." He said.

"By the way, how do you know I was here?" I asked. It just struck me. "I mean, how did you know?"

"We have got to pay attention to beautiful people like you," he said, winking. "We can't lose you."

I blushed.

"Why do you even think I am beautiful?" I asked.

"Brown long hair, with green eyes also with the addition of a beautifully created, philosophical brain. What more do you need?"

"I ain't cool at all"

"And you think I care?" he said, "Not being cool is cooler."

"Okay I guess, you might be right."

"I know," he said. I liked his 'I know' to be honest. No reason but the conviction he said with and the utmost conviction and comfort that it gave...