“Miss Loretta, congratulations.”
The voice pulled me back into the present.
Ramiro.
I recognized him instantly.
There was always something reassuring about the way he spoke, like he chose his words carefully.
But it wasn’t the voice I had expected.
A flicker of confusion passed through me.
Rafael and I had come to the hospital together. I remembered him there—his presence quiet, controlled, unmistakable even when he said nothing.
So where was he now?
“Can I... open my eyes?” I asked, my voice coming out rough, barely above a whisper.
Ramiro let out a soft breath, almost like a relieved chuckle. “Of course you can. The doctor assured us everything went perfectly. The procedure was successful.”
Successful.
The word echoed in my chest, heavy and unreal.
My heart began to pound, fast and uneven, climbing up into my throat until it felt hard to swallow around it.
I hesitated, fear tightening its grip again.
What if it wasn’t?
What if I opened them and saw nothing?
I pushed myself upright first, moving slowly.
The bed shifted beneath me, sheets rustling loudly in the quiet room.
A slow breath filled my lungs. Then another.
My hands curled slightly into the fabric at my sides as I gathered what little courage I had left.
Then, carefully—
I opened my eyes.
At first, there was nothing but light.
Soft and diffused—gentle enough not to hurt
I flinched instinctively, blinking rapidly as my vision struggled to adjust.
Shapes blurred in and out, colors bleeding into each other like wet paint.
But then—
It began to settle.
Edges sharpened. Forms took shape.
