No flowers for the dead - Chapter 31: Chapter 31

Elias never liked hospitals.
Even when he funded them.
Even when he rebuilt entire wings and named them after ghosts he never spoke about.
So when the fever came, and the cough followed, and Alina gently pressed the back of her hand to his forehead and whispered, “Let’s just check,”—he agreed, not because he was afraid, but because he didn’t want to make her worry.
And because when you’ve been given everything you never thought you’d have, you learn not to take time for granted.
⸻
It wasn’t anything dramatic.
Just a scare. A reminder.
He came home two days later with medicine and instructions and strict orders from both the doctor and Alina to rest.
Elara baked him banana bread, burned it, and made another.
They curled up on the couch that night—Elias under a blanket, Alina by his side, Elara at his feet with her head on his lap, pretending not to cry.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Elias murmured.
“You better not,” Alina said, her voice too quiet, too tight.
“Not yet,” Elara added.
“Not ever,” Elias replied.
And somehow, even though they all knew nothing lasted forever, they made a promise in that moment—to stay, to try, to love as hard as they could for as long as they were given.
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Later, when the house was quiet and the moon poured in through the open window, Elias whispered to Alina:
“If something ever happens—”
“No,” she said.
He smiled. “Let me finish.”
She didn’t want to.
But she listened.
“If something ever happens… don’t bury me in suits or marble. No gold. No speeches.”
“Okay.”
“Just a tree,” he said. “Plant me beneath a tree. Somewhere Elara can come when she wants to remember.”
Alina swallowed hard.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“And no flowers,” he added.
“What?”
“,” Elias said softly. “Just roots. Something that stays.”
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Alina kissed his temple, leaned into him.
“You’ll outlive us both.”
But in her heart, she etched his words like scripture.
Because love doesn’t promise permanence.
Only presence.