The Fading Moon Chapter 21: The Photograph That Remained

Read chapter 21 of The Fading Moon by MananTayal on NovelPedia.

The next morning arrived quietly. Sunlight slipped through the hospital window. Soft. Gentle. Warm. For the first time in weeks, the sky was clear. The snow had stopped. The city sparkled beneath the winter sun. Yet Mike barely noticed. Because all his attention remained fixed on the girl sleeping beside him. Jessika. The girl who had changed his life. The girl who had taught him how to dream again. The girl he loved more than anything. She looked peaceful. The exhaustion on her face seemed lighter today. Almost as if the moonlit conversation from the previous night had eased some invisible burden. Mike hoped so. Even if only for a little while. A few minutes later Jessika slowly opened her eyes. She blinked. Then immediately smiled. "Good morning." Mike smiled back. "Good morning." "Did you sleep?" "No." "Mike." "A little." "You're lying." "Maybe." Jessika sighed dramatically. Even now she found ways to act like herself. And Mike was grateful for it. Later that afternoon the doctor arrived. The conversation was brief. Too brief. The doctor's expression revealed more than his words. Mike noticed. Jessika noticed too. Neither asked questions. Neither wanted answers. Not today. After the doctor left, silence filled the room. The kind of silence that felt heavier than usual. Eventually Jessika broke it. "Let's escape." Mike blinked. "What?" "Let's leave." "We're in a hospital." "Exactly." "That's illegal." "It's romantic." "No, it's illegal." Jessika laughed. The sound echoed through the room. Bright and beautiful. An hour later they were sitting on the hospital rooftop. Wrapped in blankets. Drinking hot chocolate from paper cups. Technically they weren't supposed to be there. Which somehow made Jessika happier. The winter wind brushed against their faces. The city stretched endlessly around them. Cars moved like tiny lights below. People rushed through their lives. Completely unaware of the two hearts sitting above them. For a while they simply enjoyed the view. Then Jessika suddenly pointed toward Mike's camera. "You haven't taken many pictures lately." Mike looked down. She was right. The camera had barely left his bag. "I guess I haven't." "Why?" He didn't answer immediately. Because the truth was simple. Every time he looked through the lens lately, he became afraid. Afraid of capturing memories that would one day hurt. Afraid of preserving moments he might lose. Jessika seemed to understand anyway. She always did. "You know..." She looked toward the city. "Pictures aren't meant to stop pain." Mike looked at her. "They're meant to stop forgetting." The words hit him hard. Because they sounded exactly like something she would write in one of her letters. Jessika smiled softly. "So take pictures." Mike remained silent. "Take ugly pictures." She continued. "Take blurry pictures." "Take stupid pictures." "Take pictures where I look terrible." Mike laughed. "That's impossible." She nudged him. Weakly. "But seriously." Her voice softened. "Keep taking them." After a long moment Mike nodded. "Okay." Jessika smiled. Satisfied. Then she pointed toward herself. "Start now." "What?" "Take a picture." "Now?" "Now." Mike raised the camera. Instinctively. Naturally. Like he used to. Jessika immediately made the most ridiculous face imaginable. Crossed eyes. Puffed cheeks. Absolutely no dignity. The shutter clicked. Mike burst out laughing. "So beautiful." "I know." "You look like a potato." "An elegant potato." The shutter clicked again. And again. And again. Soon dozens of photos filled the memory card. Some silly. Some beautiful. Some emotional. Some completely random. At one point Jessika stole his scarf and wrapped it around her head like a strange winter queen. At another point she balanced an empty cup on her nose. At another point she tried posing dramatically against the sunset. Only to lose her balance and nearly fall into Mike. Each photo captured a different version of her. Yet every single one felt precious. Eventually the sun