“I love you,” I say again, because now that the dam is broken, the words want out. “I love you so much it feels… unreasonable.”
A huff of almost-laughter ghosts across my lips.
“Good,” he says. “Reasonable love is for men who have not fought death.”
I let out a wet snort.
He smiles. A small, soft thing just for me.
He presses his forehead to mine once more, slow and deliberate, like a benediction. “Te amo,” he whispers. “In my language, I can say it. In yours…” His hand settles over my heart. “In yours, I show you instead. Every day. In every choice. I am not leaving. Not when things are easy. Not when they are hard. Not when the wheel turns in ways we do not like.”
The panic that’s been perched on my ribs all morning loosens its claws.
He doesn’t have to say the exact syllables.
I feel them anyway.
I pull in a long breath and let it out slowly, my hands rising to cover his where they rest against my face.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Okay.”
He eases back just enough to see me clearly, but doesn’t let go.
“You fought,” he says. “It is over now. Whatever comes next—letters, delays, bad news, good news—you already did the hardest part.”
“Existing?” I say weakly.
“Refusing to disappear,” he corrects. “That is always the hardest part.”
I nod.
The breeze shifts, carrying in distant sounds—kids laughing, a horse snorting, someone shouting about sunscreen. Life, oblivious.
For the first time since this started, the uncertainty doesn’t feel like a cliff.
It feels like a road I’m walking with someone beside me.
“Will you…” My voice comes out small. I clear my throat. “Will you stay with me today? After this? I’m not sure what my brain is going to do with itself.”
“Try to plan six possible futures all at once,” he says dryly.
“Yes,” I admit.
“I will stay,” he says simply. “We will eat. We will walk. Maybe you will let me fix the bad places in your shoulders again. And when your thoughts run too far ahead, I will pull them back here.” His fingertip taps lightly against my chest. “To now.”
My entire body exhales.
“Okay,” I say again. “Deal.”
He releases my face only to take my hand, lacing our fingers carefully together.
“Come,” he says. “You need food. Even warriors of truth must eat.”
We step into the corridor. My legs are still shaky, my heart still too fast, uncertainty still wrapped around my future like a fog.
But his hand is warm in mine.
And for today—just today—that is enough.
