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“Clem, it’s almost midnight…”
“What if Raphaël doesn’t make it through the night?”
“The doctors said he should pull through.”
“They aren’t fortune-tellers,” she replies, a little sharply.
“We have to stay positive. He’s going to wake up. He has to,” I whisper.
“Why? Because you’re afraid of how you’ll suffer if he dies?”
My throat tightens. I know her anger is just a way of releasing tension, but her words sting.
“You threw him away like a used tissue back then, and now you suddenly care about him?”
“Clem!” I snap, unable to help myself this time. “You’re being unfair. You know perfectly well why I left him.”
A sob escapes her.
“Sorry, Alma.” She places her shaky hand on my arm. “I shouldn’t have said that. I know you went through hell two years ago. I’m not judging you, I’m just… scared for him.”
“Me too. He was part of my life, of my family. I haven’t forgotten… I haven’t forgotten anything, Clem.”
“Don’t you think it’s fate?”
Her question barely registers; I’m too busy blinking away my tears and focusing on the road.
“Raphaël coming back into your life just when you’re reconnecting with Vadim…” she insists.
“It’s a coincidence, Clem. I don’t believe in fate. Well, I don’t believe in it anymore.”
“I’m convinced that one of them is the love of your life. But I don’t know which one,” she says, thinking out loud.
I shrug, my hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.
“What if you’re making a mistake? What if Raphaël is the one for you?”
“Clem, you remember how it was, right? Even when I lived with Raphaël, I was still constantly thinking about Vadim.”
“You’re listening to your instincts instead of your reason. You’re confusing love and passion. With Vadim, it’s stronger, but… what if it’s fleeting?”
“I don’t know where I’m going, but I refuse to choose the safe, easy path. It doesn’t matter if I make the wrong decision. I don’t want to look back in twenty years and regret having let this man slip through my fingers… a man who awakens something in me, moves me, understands me, and captivates me like no one else ever has. I feel alive with him. I feel… like myself.”
“Well, it’s your choice.”
“And do you plan to respect whatever choice I make?” I ask softly.
“Yes, because it’s you.” She smiles at me, then rests her tousled head on my shoulder.
19
Alma
Raphaël woke up in the early hours of the morning. He is going to need to stay in the hospital for a while, but his life is no longer in danger. With a severe headache, a fractured collarbone, broken ribs, and different wounds of varying severity, his recovery will take time and patience, but—miraculously—he’s alive. After hearing the good news when I wake up, I let my coworkers know that I won’t be in today.
It isn’t even eight in the morning when I prepare to enter Room 113 for the first time, and the hospital is practically deserted. A few minutes ago, I ran into Raphaël’s parents as they were heading to the cafeteria. They warned me that their son was exhausted and that I shouldn’t tire him out.
So, I approach him on tiptoe, unnerved by all the machines connected to his battered body. A strong smell of disinfectant hangs in the room. He’s lying there with his eyes closed, bandages covering his forehead and cheeks, and a brace around his neck. I run my fingers through his fair hair, observing his swollen nose, which is bluish in places. Seeing him in this state breaks my heart.
