Page 13 of Seven Minutes
At first, it was small. Missed glances. Conversations trailing off. That familiar hum between us fading into something softer. Easier to ignore.
Arguments flaring sharp and quick over nothing, over everything. And always the same ending with murmured apologies, hands pulling close, and relief lingering on our lips.
You don’t notice the light dimming until you’re already straining to see. We were messy and stubborn, but even then, we still found each other.
A hundred lonelynights passed before me. The clock ticking too loudly, and me waiting for the sound of his key in the door. Adrian’s tired eyes passing me over. Falling asleep mid-sentence, head resting in my lap, still dressed in scrubs that smelled faintly of antiseptic and coffee.
But I didn’t mind. His exhaustion was proof of his effort, and his effort was proof of love. Because even half-asleep, Adrian always reached for me.
Next came his rare nights off, where we cooked together and made a mess of the kitchen. Adrian taking charge like it was surgery, measuring out exact teaspoons of oil, while Iimprovised with handfuls and guesses. Flour on the floor, sauce where it didn’t belong, and laughter loud enough to cover the lack of conversation.
He kept me up late into the night with hospital gossip, names I didn’t know, the tough cases, the patients who broke his heart, and the rare ones who managed to make him laugh. I drank in every word, thirsty for pieces of him.
Adrian was changing. Or maybe the job was changing him—shaping him into someone I didn’t always recognize. His warmth came in measured doses; his empathy parceled out like breadcrumbs. Too much, and he’d burn, drown in other people’s pain.
So I trailed behind, picking up those breadcrumbs, keeping them safe. Fragments of him, shed day by day, stored in the hollow of my chest, desperate to make sure the man I loved didn’t vanish completely.
Chapter 7
The Fifth Minute
ELI
“Do you even see me anymore?”
I followed Adrian down the hall, spewing accusations in the wake of his exhaustion.
He’d come home late again, scrolling on his phone as he ate reheated leftovers, then disappearing into the bedroom without barely speaking two words to me.
Frustration, the ache of missing him, of drifting past one another like ships in a storm, blistered my patience.
He froze mid-step. A bone-deep weariness etched his handsome face.
“Eli, I’m just tired. It’s not about you.”
“But it feels like it is,” I shot back. “You come home and shut me out. You’re here, but you’re notwithme.”
Something shifted in him. He crossed the space between us, one hand threading into my hair, the other gripping my jaw as if to steady both of us.
“You think I don’t want this?” His voice shook. “You think I don’t wantyou?”
His words ignited a searing heat inside me. The next breath was a kiss, angry, desperate, all teeth and hunger. The argument dissolved under the weight of everything we’d been holding back.
My back hit the wall.
Lips trailed down my throat.
I clutched at his shoulders, every ounce of frustration melting into lust, then surrender. We undressed between kisses. Laughed when we stumbled. Every breath we shared saidDon’t give up on me.
Adrian tugged me into the bathroom. The mirror fogged with steam, our skin slick, water beating down like a baptism. His forehead touched mine, eyes heavy with need, his hands trembling where they rested on my hips.
His voice was barely a whisper. “Eli, I don’t ever want to lose this.”
I answered with a wobbly smile. “Then don’t. Don’t let go.”
He dropped to one knee, water streaming down his face. I thought he was joking. But his eyes glistened, raw with certainty.
“Marry me. Let’s stop waiting for the perfect time. This is it.”
