It was my housemate who helped me up from the ice. He was holding my shoulders and was leading me to a near room where I could sit. Blood started falling down my cheek from a deep cut above my eyebrow. People started to gather around me, saying that we should call an ambulance, saying that it was serious and that I needed to go to the hospital.
I didn’t feel any pain, just the blood on my face. However, the talk scared me a lot. I started feeling that I could faint, wondering if I were pale. All this time my housemate was standing near to me, worried. I didn’t realise this until I started searching for him with my eyes. I couldn’t see him at first and I was upset because of that. Finally, I saw his face sending me an assuring smile, that everything would be fine. At that moment, I started losing my breath, needing more and more air. At that very moment, he instantly came to me and took my hand.
He was holding my hand, saying that everything would be all right. I remember all this like it were a dream. Nevertheless, there is no way I would ever forget how tightly I was holding his hand. I definitely needed that, to make me strong, and to catch my breath. My hold on his hand was getting stronger and stronger, feeling his presence next to me was necessary.
After a while, I felt better. The ambulance came; my housemate and another dear friend of mine came with me to the hospital. He held my hand and kept me in his arms all the time.
All this happened in a foreign country and I didn’t have any close people around me, so it was nice to know that there was someone for me that night. He stayed with me till I went to bed. I couldn’t sleep all night long. I wished I could have held his hand during the night, but asking for that would’ve been too much. He had already done more than enough for me.
A few weeks later and he wasn’t my housemate anymore, but my boyfriend. I loved holding his hand.My Story: Holding Hands