The Fading Moon Chapter 16: The Day the Sky Fell Silent

Read chapter 16 of The Fading Moon by MananTayal on NovelPedia.

January arrived. A new year. A new beginning. At least that was what everyone said. The city celebrated with fireworks. Families gathered together. Friends exchanged wishes for the future. People spoke about hopes. Dreams. Plans. But for Mike, the arrival of a new year felt different. Because every new day was both a gift and a reminder. A gift because Jessika was still here. A reminder because time never stopped moving. And lately, it seemed to move far too quickly. The first weeks of January passed peacefully. Almost surprisingly peacefully. Jessika's condition remained stable. Not better. But not worse. For the first time in months, Mike allowed himself to breathe. Just a little. The hospital visits continued. The treatments continued. The uncertainty continued. Yet there were also smiles. Laughter. Dates. Memories. Life. And sometimes that felt enough. One afternoon, while walking through a shopping district, Jessika suddenly grabbed Mike's sleeve. "Look." Mike followed her gaze. A pet store. Several puppies were playing inside the display area. Jessika immediately pressed herself against the glass. Her eyes sparkled. Mike sighed. "No." "I didn't even ask anything." "You were about to." Jessika pointed dramatically. "Look at him." A tiny golden puppy was running in circles. Completely confused about life. Mike stared. "...Okay, he's kind of cute." Jessika gasped. "Did you just admit something was cute?" "I take it back." Too late. Jessika looked victorious. The puppy had won. For the next hour they wandered through nearby streets. Talking. Laughing. Arguing. The usual. And for once, Mike felt genuinely hopeful. The fear hadn't disappeared. It never would. But it wasn't controlling every thought anymore. Maybe things would be okay. Maybe. The dangerous thing about hope was that it made people believe. And Mike was starting to believe again. Three days later, everything changed. The phone call came at 2:17 PM. Mike remembered the exact time for the rest of his life. He was at work. Reviewing photographs for a client. His phone vibrated. A number he recognized immediately. Jessika's mother. The moment he saw the screen, a terrible feeling appeared. A feeling so strong that his hands became cold. He answered instantly. "Hello?" Silence. Then a trembling voice. "Mike..." His heart stopped. Completely. Because something was wrong. Very wrong. "What happened?" The answer came through tears. "She's collapsed." The world vanished. Every sound disappeared. Every thought disappeared. Everything disappeared. Leaving only those two words. She's collapsed. Mike didn't remember leaving work. He didn't remember taking the train. He didn't remember crossing the city. The next thing he knew, he was standing inside the hospital. Breathing heavily. Heart racing. Terrified. More terrified than he had ever been before. The emergency floor felt colder than usual. Doctors moved quickly through hallways. Machines beeped constantly. Families waited anxiously. Fear lived in every corner of the building. And today... Mike was part of it. He found Jessika's mother sitting near a waiting area. The moment he saw her face, his stomach dropped. She had been crying. A lot. The sight alone was enough to make panic explode inside him. "Where is she?" Her mother wiped her eyes. "The doctors are with her." Mike felt dizzy. "What happened?" The woman looked down. Several seconds passed. Then she answered. "The treatment stopped working." The words shattered something inside him. Because he knew what they meant. Not fully. Not medically. But emotionally. He knew. And for the first time since meeting Jessika... Hope disappeared. Hours passed. Painfully slow hours. The longest hours of Mike's life. The waiting room clock continued moving. Minute by minute. Second by second. Yet every second felt endless. Finally, a doctor appeared. Immediately everyone stood. Mike's heart pounded so hard it hurt. The doctor looked exhausted. Serious. Professional. And somehow that