Camp Infirmary – The Next Morning
Soft morning light filtered through thin white curtains. The smell of antiseptic hung faintly in the air.
Naya stirred, head heavy, throat sore. Her body ached like she'd run a marathon, and when she tried to sit up, a sharp pain shot through her ribs.
A voice broke the silence.
"Hey. Easy."
Lucien was there.
He sat in the chair beside her bed, elbows on his knees, dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept at all.
Naya blinked slowly. "What… happened?"
"You almost drowned," he said quietly. "At the waterfall."
She frowned, fragments of memory flashing—cold water, panic, then darkness. "Jessica—she—"
Lucien's jaw tightened. "Yeah. I know."
Naya's breath hitched. "She pushed me."
Lucien nodded once. "I saw the way she was standing when I got there. Nora found her later trying to pretend she didn't know what happened."
He rubbed his face, voice low but hard. "I swear, if I hadn't—"
"Stop," Naya said weakly. "You don't have to—"
"I do," he cut in. His tone cracked, softer but raw. "You scared me, Naya. I thought I lost you."
The words hung heavy between them.
She looked at him then, really looked—and saw the fear still in his eyes. The way his hands trembled slightly.
"You saved me," she whispered.
Lucien swallowed hard. "I'd do it again. Every time."
For a moment, the world felt still. Just their breathing. The faint rustle of curtains. The quiet thump of her heart catching up.
Then the door opened.
Nora stepped in, holding a cup of warm tea. "Oh thank God, you're awake!" She rushed over, placing it carefully on the bedside table. "You scared the life out of everyone."
Naya managed a tired smile. "Sorry."
Nora shot Lucien a look. "You didn't leave her side, did you?"
He didn't answer. He didn't have to.
"Well," Nora said after a pause, "Jessica's in deep trouble. The camp supervisors called her parents. She's being sent home today."
Naya blinked. "Good."
Nora squeezed her hand gently. "You rest, okay? I'll grab you some breakfast." She shot Lucien one more look—a mix of warning and gratitude—and left the room.
When the door closed, silence settled again.
Lucien leaned back in the chair. "I know you probably don't want to talk to me," he said quietly, "but I needed you to know—I didn't stop caring. Not for a second."
Naya looked at him, the edges of her anger softened by exhaustion and the raw honesty in his voice.
"I don't know what to do with that yet," she admitted.
Lucien nodded. "That's okay. Just… don't shut me out completely."
She looked away, staring at the faint sunlight on the wall. "I'll try."
He smiled a little, tired but real.
"Good enough for me."