Peace Before Parting

Pretty Bird - Chapter 6

I once read that before you lose someone, the universe gives you this strange grace period—just enough time to soak in everything, to make memories sweet enough to haunt you later. Ironic, right? But maybe… it's true.

Because that week, Ell and I felt too peaceful.

Too right.

At this point, Ell was basically living with me. My bed, once spacious, now felt like the edge of a cliff. She always slept so close—like a human glue trap. And even though I was squeezed into the corner every night, I never complained. Actually… I was addicted. Addicted to the lavender scent of her pillow. Addicted to the soft little noises she made before sleeping—sometimes mumbling nonsense, sometimes just a "hmm…" or a sigh like "hahhh…". It was weird, but it warmed my chest. Like something intangible was blooming there.

I was still in denial, of course. Still telling myself it was just comfort. Just… friendship.

Until one morning, I woke up to silence. No lo-fi music from the kitchen. No smell of fried eggs. Just stillness.

I peeked into the room. She was still in bed. Pale. Sweaty.

And when I got closer…

Damn. Burning hot.

I panicked. I am not Florence Nightingale, okay? And Google? Google was no help. First article I saw:

"High fever may cause brain damage."

Thanks a lot, internet.

I jumped to YouTube, hands shaking, trying to follow a congee recipe. I mistook salt for sugar. Got jump-scared by boiling water. The spatula yeeted itself into the spoon drawer. I was basically cooking like I was defusing a bomb in CS:GO.

While the porridge was simmering, I sprinted to the minimart. Grabbed paracetamol, cotton pads for compresses, and chilled mineral water. Ran back. She was still asleep, breathing shallow.

I soaked an old T-shirt in warm water and placed it on her forehead. After a while, her eyes fluttered open halfway.

"Wanna go to the doctor?"

She shook her head slowly.

"No. You're enough."

And just like that, my chest melted.

How the hell can a voice that soft make my heart quake like that?

Eventually, the porridge was ready.

"Ell, come on. You need to eat. I'll feed you."

She opened her eyes, barely. But she still managed a tiny smile.

"You cooked?"

"Yep. Featuring mental breakdowns and a special guest star: the YouTube channel 'Congee That Won't Kill You'. Open up."

I spoon-fed her. One. Two. Three bites. Then the meds. Then tucked her back in, turned off the lights, and sat in the corner watching her. She made those soft sounds again—"mhh... hhh..."—and I just scratched my head, whispering to myself, "Damn… what's happening to me?"

She was sick for three days.

Three days of nursing her. Feeding her, compressing her, brewing tea, massaging her back.

Sometimes I just sat on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep. Her face pale, but still… heartbreakingly beautiful.

Even when I wiped her sweat and accidentally brushed her lips, time felt like it froze.

I panicked, pulled my hand back fast.

What the hell am I feeling?

By day four, she was up and looking better.

Hair all messy, but that little smile was back.

"Thanks for taking care of me. I used to deal with sickness alone. No one ever helped."

I went blank. Brain = fried.

"…mmm."

She laughed softly. "That's it?"

"…yeah. Mmm… means eat more later."

After about a week, things returned to normal.

Ell was waking up early again. Making breakfast. Doing her skincare in front of the mirror while humming random tunes. I'd sit on the couch, sipping coffee, just watching her and smiling like an idiot.

Like life was giving me this gentle pause before throwing chaos at us again.

We even went to the mall together. I needed clothes. She insisted on tagging along. We ate, played arcade games, took pictures in a photo booth.

She usually hated being photographed, but that day she agreed.

In one frame, she smiled straight at the camera.

In another… she was looking at me. Unaware it was already snapping.

I kept that photo.

Then one night, we watched a horror film.

Lights off. Tiny couch. I was chill.

Ell? She clung to me the moment the intro rolled.

"Don't look, Ell," I said.

"I'm not," she whispered, right in my ear.

"I'm looking at you."

I almost merged with the floor.

After the movie, we moved to the bed.

And she… still clung to me.

Even at midnight, when I opened my eyes, she was still there.

Her face so close. Her breath soft.

Her tiny hand reaching for mine. So natural, so automatic—like it had always belonged there.

I wanted time to stop right then.

But deep inside my chest, something was starting to feel heavy.

A small voice whispered,

"You can't stay like this forever."

And with each passing morning, that voice got louder.

But not yet.

Not today.

Today… let me just enjoy this.

This moment where I can still pretend everything's okay.

This moment where my Pretty Bird is still by my side.

And everything…

is still warm.