She has been writhing and battling with the pain for three days. The sheets, which had been changed, were already drenched in sweat. A soft light bathed the small room. The flowers had opened and some petals littered the small bedside table.
He looked at her and he knew that he loved her more than ever. He could hear her weak and regular breathing which echoed like a distant refrain. How long he remained like that looking at her suffering, he did not know. How long he was going to remain there like that, helpless, feeling her trickle away, he did not know.
He felt like screaming, so loud that the sound would pierce the walls, its reverberations would silence the city and time would recoil. He wanted to submit his body to the same suffering—feel this pain which now replaced pleasure.
Then, he prayed. He knelt down and prayed. He had not done this in a long time. There was an age when simple words lifted fear. Days when time was not of the essence. Now he was hesitant. He had a strong longing for his childhood prayers.
He placed his hands together, not so much to call to a god, but more to gather his strength. He stayed like this until evening. When the last sounds had been heard and the city seemed to be sleeping, he looked at her and found that she had woken up.
‘I will go with you to death,’ he said to her. ‘I want to love you till the end of your suffering.’
‘You cannot stop death,’ she murmured. ‘It is too strong. Do you remember Orpheus and Eurydice? What shall we do in this city, abandoned to despair and non‐believers? You know it: the disease is devouring me.’
‘I’ll go to the end of our story.’
‘Very well,’ she said, and she fell asleep again.
Then he picked her up in his arms and walked through the city. He crossed deserted neighbourhoods. He walked above roads, above rooftops, through the green foliage of the trees. After travelling for several days and nights, he was exhausted. He placed her on some thick grass in a garden.
‘Don’t be afraid, I won’t leave you. There is still a long way to go, but together, it should be easier. Drink some water, it will make you feel better.’
He gave her water, which she drank in small sips, and when she had finished, they continued on their way. She dozed in his arms. This time he crossed streams, small and large rivers, he hopped across swamps and ran on lakes.
They came to the sea. They marvelled at what they saw, and she said:
‘I want to die here. What can be more beautiful than this dancing foam and engulfing water?’
‘No, please, not yet,’ he said and he listened to the waves which seemed to show him the way.
They travelled for seven more days as far as the white mountains. The silence and cold were one. The awesome void swallowed all vision.
‘I could not die anywhere else. This is where peace lies. Just look at immensity where no impurity can stain death. Even the soil rests beneath the cold. My body will retain its youth. The passing centuries count for nothing. Leave me here.’
‘No,’ he said, looking at her with compassion. ‘This solitude chills my soul. I could never leave your body on this carpet of ice. I would feel as though I had betrayed you.’
He still had a long way to go on this painful journey. But then, before he came to the desert, they knew they had now reached the end of the earth and there was nowhere else for them to go. She looked him straight in the eyes:
‘This is it. Now leave me. I must cross the desert gates alone. Beyond those are the souls of the dead. There is nothing more that you can do. Following me would be futile.’
His heart began to race. He suddenly felt that he was going to lose her.
‘Let me love you one last time.’
And so it was there, between the earth and the sky, that they loved each other so intensely that the sun was eclipsed and a cool wind swept their bodies.
In the morning, she lay dead.