I freeze. “What?”
Her lips twitch. “The bed. Get in.”
“Em, I don’t think I should.”
Her voice is firm now. “Please.”
I hesitate, but her wide and hopeful brown eyes convince me, telling me that she needs me close and I can’t say no. Carefully, I climb in beside her, mindful of her IVs and monitors, shifting to face her.
The second I settle in, she shifts too, pressing herself into my chest like she belongs there. My fingers find her face, tracing the delicate slope of her cheekbone, the curve of her jaw, the soft skin of her neck. I can feel her pulse beneath my fingertips, steady and strong.
I almost didn’t get to do this again.
“I thought I lost you.” I whisper, gently pulling her as close into me as possible, the confession breaking apart in my mouth.
“You didn’t.” She presses a kiss to my chest, right over my heart. “And you were here for me. Every second.”
“I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.”
She tilts her head up, fingers finding mine on the side of her face. “Thank you.”
I shake my head, brushing my nose against her temple. I can feel her smiling against my skin.
There’sa knock at the door that pulls us out of a dream-like state.
Dr. Rivera steps in, wearing the same calm reassuring expression he’s had every time I’ve seen him. “Good to see you awake, Emiliana,” he greets warmly.
“Hi, Dr. Rivera,” she replies. I shift slightly to get out of the bed, but she holds me in place, not letting me leave her side.
He grins as he steps closer to the bed. “I’ve got good news foryou. Everything looks great. Your body’s adjusting well to the new heart, your labs are solid, and if everything keeps going smoothly, you’ll be discharged tomorrow.”
Emma lets out a breath, and I feel it against my skin.
Dr. Rivera continues, “That said, the next few months are critical. Your body is still adjusting, and we’ll be monitoring you closely for any signs of rejection. You’ll have frequent check-ups, medication adjustments, and we’ll need to keep a close eye on how you’re feeling. Any changes or anything that feels off, you need to let us know immediately. Got it?”
Emma nods. “Got it.”
“Any questions?”
She shakes her head. I don’t have any either, not ones I want to ask out loud, anyways.
Dr. Rivera smiles. “Alright. I’ll check in again later. In the meantime, get some rest. You’ve got a big day ahead of you.”
He leaves and the room is quiet again. I glance down at Emma, expecting her to look relieved, but instead her face is tight, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.
I know that look.
She’s scared.
41
EMMA
Discharge day.
I didn’t think I’d get one of those.
For the past couple weeks, I’ve been pushing myself to get strong enough for this day; doing breathing treatments with a stupid rebreather that hurt more than it seemed helpful, walking endless laps around the cardiac unit, trying to eat even when everything tastes bland and uninviting.
