Page 202 - Till the Last Breath . . .

‘Sure,’ she answered and reached out for her crutches that were on the

side of her bed.
‘They will not be of any use where I am taking you,’ he said and blocked
her way.

‘Wheelchair?’
‘Better,’ he answered.

Confused, she looked at him as he swept in and one of his hands went
around her neck. She instinctively put hers across his, and his other hand

scooped her up from her bed. With one swift motion, she was high up in his
arms; Arman’s smiling face bore no sign of strain as he headed to the door,

carrying her in his strongly built arms. She was beyond words, beyond
feelings, beyond senses; she was numb and all she did was stare at him in
sheer admiration and heart-wrenching adoration. As he carried her through

the corridor, she wished the moment would freeze in time. She wanted to
leave her body and see what it looked like—him carrying her in his arms—

and then click a mental picture of it and etch it in her mind. Why wasn’t I
dying before? she asked herself.

Arman’s long strides were confident and powerful as he walked into the
elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. Every step and every

sensation of his body against hers took her to a different world altogether. If
there was any sensation she wanted to live with as her last, it was the touch
of him against her. The elevator reached the top floor and he walked out, his

hands still tightly wrapped around her. His warm breath against her hair
gave her untold happiness and she had goosebumps on her flesh. The

feeling was indescribable as Arman walked to the stairs of the fire exit and
climbed a flight of stairs to take her to the roof of the hospital.

It was only after they were up there that she realized she was not in her
room any more. The cool breeze against her face broke her out of her

trance-like state and she returned to the present. She looked around and it
wasn’t really how they show it in the movies. The supposedly dreamlike
sequence had no tiny red LED lights, or a small round table with candles on

it, or a chunky black stereo piping her favourite songs, or glasses of wine,
or fancy cutlery with delectable food hidden under steel domes. Instead,