But I knew better.
His grip tightened weakly around mine.
Then I let go. And it felt like tearing something loose inside of myself.
As I stepped back, the nurse moved closer to the bed, professional, steady, filling the space I had occupied.
I folded my hands together tightly in front of myself; I didn’t trust them not to go back on their own.
My chest felt tight, and my eyes burned. I hated how exposed Isuddenly felt. How absolutelyobviousit must have looked. And how little I cared in that moment.
At the door, I stopped and glanced back.
Desmond kept his gaze fixed on me.
Not the nurse.
Not the monitors.
Me.
Something passed between us then — unspoken, heavy, unmistakable.
This wasn’tnothinganymore.
I knew it.
He knew it.
Everyone who had been in that room probably knew it too.
I stepped into the hallway before I could second-guess myself as the door swung shut softly behind me. But the hallway felt too bright.
Too loud.
I leaned my shoulder against the cool wall just outside the ICU room and let myself breathe for the first time in what felt like hours. The kind of breath that shook on the way out that left you a little dizzy.
My hands were still trembling. I stared at them for a second, flexing my fingers slowly, as if I could work the ghost of him out of my skin. It didn’t help. The memory of his warmth lingered. The weight of his head leaning into my palm. The way his breathing had matched mine when my fingers were in his hair.
I slid down the wall until I was half-sitting, half-leaning, knees bent, arms wrapped loosely around myself as if I could hold myself together. The sterile smell of disinfectant burned my nose. The distant sounds of carts, voices, and monitors bled together into a dull hum.
My heart was still racing.
Not from the trauma.
From him.
From the way he’d looked at me when the nurse told me to step back. From the quiet, desperatedon’t. From the way his fingers had tightened around mine, weak but insistent, as if he was afraid I might disappear if he let go.
I pressed my lips together hard, fighting to keep the tears at bay.
This isn’t nothing anymore.The words echoed in my head, heavy and undeniable.
Before, I’d had excuses.
It’s just stress.
It’s just proximity.
