I was staring at my phone, as if my eyes could borr holes through it, though I knew it was useless.

Call me when you feel like.

My message sat there with its blank double ticks. With the settings changed on his phone, it was difficult to discern if he had even seen the message.

Every single effort to get through to him recently had failed miserably. Daniel had simply cut me off from his life. My calls always got a busy tone, the messages accumulated one after the other but he didn’t reply.

His silence killed me from inside. I was just a walking shell, doing the basic minimum to keep me going. I had given up on college and stayed cooped up in my room for most of the time except when my mother dragged me to take food. Two days had passed and there was complete silence from the other end.

The doctors had warned us not to search up ‘glioblastoma multiforme’ on Google. We had done that regardless and almost fell out of our chairs readings the biographies of those who battled with the one of the deadliest disease of the century.

“The bad news is that the survival rate for this type of disease is about fifteen months,” the doctor had said. “But the good news is that the treatment for it is light years ahead of where it was ten years ago.”

“Why bother?” he had said.

“Because it’s always mind over matter,” I had replied. “Put your trust in the medical advancements. Do what needs to be done and keep playing and living your life. Nothing has changed yet.”

“So, I’m going to get on the treadmill and outrun this disease long enough for modern medicine to catch up?” there was a smirk on his face.

“Daniel, I know how it feels…”

“The hell you know!” he retorted. “You know how it feels to have a few years left for you, not a few months. And who are you to tell me to sign up for experimental treatment when you had made it quite clear you weren’t going to adopt any of yours.”

“Daniel, I…” tears had choked whatever I had wanted to say.

Those tears had actually jolted us back to the reality of the situation we were facing. He had hugged me fiercely as we cried together.

“Phoebe, I’m sorry and every moment I spend with you, my dark thoughts will hurt you in one way or the other. I can’t do that. It’s not good for you  to have to go through all that. You’re suffering physically with your own burdens and they are more than enough to force you to shoulder mine too.”

“These mood swings are a part of the grief reaction, the stages of denial, anger, bargaining, depression and ultimately acceptance. I don’t blame you for it! I’ve suffered enough in my childhood to know how you must be crumbling inside. Let me stay with you and I can help.”

I thought he had acceded to my request and I left him to ponder over his feelings but then he stopped talking altogether and I knew he was drawing himself into isolation so as to make the final goodbye easier. But that was not the way I wanted it to be. I wanted him to fight, to live and the doctors had assured us of full treatment options. Maybe there was away. Science could act miracles.

I called him again and this time it went through, thankfully.

“Daniel!” I exhaled in relief.

“Phoebe,” his voice was strained. “What do you want?”

“What do I want? You’re kidding me right?” I snapped, all the pent up anger which had been building for two days, pouring out in one go.

And I started crying again.

“Phoebe, I thought…”

“What did you think?” I wailed, “You thought that staying away from me and isolating yourself will make this easier? It won’t. It’s making everything tougher. Don’t block me out. Let me in. I know that you have created a firewall around you and your feelings, but you need to let me in.”

“Phoebe, it’s just that I didn’t want to talk to you unless I had some time to think about my life and decide on the next course of action…”

“And pray what did you think about it?”
I tapped my foot in impatience.

“There are a lot of options in front of me and I can’t choose. I simply can’t,” his voice broke.

“There is nothing to choose. You go ahead with the treatment and leave the rest to fate!” I exclaimed.

He stayed silent.

“Can I meet you? Please!” I begged.

“Not yet,” he replied, his voice emotionless.

“Daniel!”

“Phoebe!” Mrs Waters’ voice came through. “I’m sorry, girl. He left. I wish I could tell you to come over but it’s useless knowing his tempers and his moods I think he won’t allow you in. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I mumbled.
I put down the phone to see my mother looking at me.

She came down and sat beside me, “Do you realise that your biopsy reports come in today? We need to go to Doctor Strong.”

“Sure!” I said.

She caught my chin, pulling my face to meet her eyes.

“You have your own life to lead, Phoebe and don’t forget that you are sick too and need as much care as him.”

“So you say I just let him go? Forget him as if he never existed? Sorry, mom, I can’t do that. He is as much a part of my life now as my disease is. He has supported me through bad times and I’ll not turn my back when he needs me.”

“He doesn’t seem to need you much!” she sighed.

“He’s a bit moody, that’s all. He’ll come around soon.”

My words sounded hollow and I knew I was just consoling myself. If Daniel wanted to stay away from me, he would do it by any means.

A/N Updated as promised... What Daniel is doing... Is it right? But can we blame him completely?