All I could think was to save her. By any means necessary. She was in pain. Her eyes were sad and looking at me longingly. She needed me to hold her hands, kiss her face, her cheeks, her hair, her eyes. She needed my voice telling her how much I love her. She needed a hug. But I could only see a burning bridge. I had to get to the other side with her. I had to put out the fire.

Plan - I needed a plan. I will work out the cause of her illness and will methodically search to find the cure. To make her feel better. I hated feeling helpless. I had a big ego those days. I believed that I could find a cure for cancer if I paid attention and worked hard for it. It was as simple as that. I just have to work a bit harder and it would get better.

She closed those beautiful green eyes. I was shaken up. The plan went out of the window. I could feel my own pain under the skin of my fingertips. I kissed her forehead. I kept saying how much I loved her. I whispered in calm sweet voice holding back my tears.

After three long drawn out breaths, all few seconds apart, she was gone. I was left with my personal sense of failure. I was supposed to be her hero. How magnanimously the hero had failed. How the mighty had fallen.