“I said no.”
Hospitals mean records. Questions. Attention.
None of which I allow.
Timofey sighs quietly somewhere near the door, already knowing this argument is pointless.
“Just do it here,” he tells the doctor.
The man mutters something under his breath, but begins preparing his equipment.
They lay me on the table.
The pain sharpens as they cut away my shirt.
The wound burns like fire.
Through the haze, I feel Ellie’s presence beside me.
She hasn’t let go of my hand.
Even now.
When the doctor begins cleaning the blood from my side, she stays exactly where she is.
“Hold him steady,” the doctor says.
Before anyone else can move, Ellie steps closer.
Her other hand presses gently against my shoulder, anchoring me to the table.
Her clothes are stained with my blood.
Her face is pale.
But her hands don’t shake.
Not once.
I watch her through half-lidded eyes as the doctor works.
For the first time since I’ve known her, the balance between us shifts.
I’mthe one lying helpless on the table.
The one bleeding.
The one vulnerable.
And Ellie—
Ellie is the one holding me together.
Her fingers tighten slightly around mine.
“I’m right here,” she murmurs softly.
And somehow, through the pain and the fog creeping into my mind—that’s enough.
