“You didn’t do anything wrong.” I lean heavily against her, trying to get my legs back under me while the room continues to spin lazily. “I needed this, Mina.”
“You need to lie down. Right now.”
I couldn’t agree more.
She turns off the water with one hand while supporting me with the other, demonstrating a kind of strength I didn’t know she possessed, then helps me step carefully out of the shower. I have to lean on her as she wraps a towel around my waist.
“Sit,” she orders, guiding me to the edge of the tub with gentle but firm hands.
I sink down gratefully, spots still dancing across my vision. She grabs another towel and starts drying my shoulders, my arms, my hair. Her movements are quick and efficient, but her hands are trembling.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and when I look up I realize she’s fighting tears, her eyes bright. “I’m so sorry, Cristiano. I should have made you get out when the plastic started coming loose. This is my fault.”
“It’s not your fault.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “I wouldn’t have let you stop me. You know that.”
She blinks rapidly, trying to hold back tears that are determined to fall anyway. “You could have fainted and hit your head. You could have torn your stitches open.”
“I wanted you so much I’d rather risk dying than push you away. That’s not on you, Mina. That’s on me and my complete inability to be sensible when it comes to you.”
Mina kneels in front of me, her face pale and tight with worry, and carefully peels away the plastic covering from my bandage. The dressing underneath is mostly dry. Some water got through at the edges, but not enough to soak through to the wound.
She replaces the bandage quickly, her fingers gentle but efficient, smoothing fresh gauze into place with the kind of focused concentration that tells me she’s trying very hard not to think about what just happened.
“It’s fine,” she says, more to herself than to me, her voice still shaking. “No tearing, no bleeding. You’re fine. It’s fine.”
“I told you I was fine.”
She looks up at me, and there are tears streaming down her cheeks now, no longer held back.
I cup her face with both hands, wiping away the tears with my thumbs, feeling the dampness on my skin. “Don’t cry, Mina. Please don’t cry. I can’t bear it when you cry.”
“I’m not crying,” she sobs, even as more tears spill over.
She wipes her face and stands, helping me to my feet again. She’s supporting most of my weight as we make our slow, careful way to the bedroom. Every step sends a dull ache through my side that promises to become much worse once the endorphins wear off, but I grit my teeth and keep moving, one foot in front of the other, leaning on Mina and trying not to collapse.
When we reach the bed, I sink onto the edge with profound relief. The room is still spinning slightly, but my vision is clearing, the white spots receding to the edges.
Mina is still wearing nothing but her soaked bra, water dripping from her hair onto the floor. She arranges the pillows behind my head with fussy precision, making sure I’m comfortable and that everything is exactly right before she’ll let herself stop moving.
“You’re soaking wet,” I observe, noting the way water is still dripping from her hair and her bra.
“I’m fine. Just rest. Please just rest and let yourself heal.”
I watch her sniffle and swipe tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“I was so scared,” she whispers, and her voice breaks completely. “When you were in surgery. When you nearly collapsed in the shower just now. Every time I close my eyes, I see you dying, and I can’t—I can’t lose you, Cristiano. I can’t do this alone anymore. I don’t want to.”
The words steal what little breath I have left.
“You’re not losing me.” I reach for her hand, lacing our fingers together, holding on tight. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You saved Leon.” Fresh tears stream down her face, faster now, like a dam has broken. “You gave him part of yourself without hesitation. You’ve been so strong, so brave, and I’ve been so suspicious, so—”
She swallows and meets my eyes. The confession tumbles out of her like she can’t hold it back anymore.
“I want us to be a family. I want to stop being afraid all the time.” She breaks off, sobbing. “I’m so tired of running from you. I’m so tired of being alone.”
My throat closes up completely. I can’t speak, can’t breathe, can only pull her onto the bed beside me.
