The sky outside the medical facility shifted from dusty gold to a soft evening blue as hours quietly folded into one another. Ethan slept in brief stretches, drifting in and out of hazy consciousness, while Camila remained on vigilant watch beside him.
Every time his breathing changed, every time he shifted, every time a monitor beeped, she tensed—then relaxed again.
"You're really not gonna make this easy for Sofia, are you?" she muttered softly, adjusting the blanket over him. "Making her cry on a plane… waking up only halfway…"
Ethan murmured something incoherent in sleep.
Camila sighed.
"Yeah. Thought so."
She stretched her legs, rubbing the tension from her neck. The exhaustion of the past days weighed heavily, but she stayed anyway. For Ethan. For Sofia.
Her radio crackled.
"Incoming civilian has cleared security. Please escort to patient room 4B."
Camila froze.
She checked the clock.
She's here.
Her breath hitched—not with jealousy anymore, not with pain, but with a strange sense of relief. Hope, even.
Ethan deserved this.
Sofia deserved this.
Camila stood, smoothing her uniform, composing herself. She glanced at Ethan.
"Showtime, sleeping beauty," she whispered.
---
The lobby was cooler than the dry air outside, dimly lit, nearly empty. A few nurses walked by, but the world felt strangely quiet—like something sacred was about to happen.
And in the center of the room, near the entrance…
Sofia.
She looked nothing like the last time Camila had seen her through a blurry video call.
Her hair was loose around her shoulders, slightly messy from the flight. Her eyes were swollen and red, cheeks pale with worry. She clutched her passport so tightly her knuckles were white.
When Sofia spotted Camila, she broke into a run.
Camila braced herself.
"Sofia," she greeted softly.
But Sofia didn't speak—she threw her arms around Camila.
The hug startled Camila, but she returned it, patting Sofia gently on the back.
Sofia was shaking.
"Where is he?" Sofia whispered against her shoulder, voice trembling. "Is he awake? Is he okay?"
Camila squeezed her arms. "He's stable. And awake… most of the time."
Sofia pulled back, breath unsteady.
"I need to see him."
Camila nodded. "Follow me."
---
They walked down the long corridor together. The sound of Sofia's steps rushed, urgent. Camila's steps slow, steady.
Sofia's heartbeat thrummed loud enough she could feel it in her throat.
Every door they passed made her breath shorten.
Every second that separated her from Ethan felt unbearable.
Finally, they reached the small sign:
Room 4B
Sofia's breath caught. Her eyes filled again, overflowing.
Camila placed a steady hand on the doorknob.
"You ready?"
"No," Sofia whispered honestly. "But I need to see him anyway."
Camila gave a small smile and pushed open the door.
---
The room was quiet.
The air smelled faintly of antiseptic.
Machines hummed softly.
And on the bed—
Ethan.
Sofia stopped in the doorway, hand pressed to her lips.
He looked different—older, thinner, bandaged, bruised. But his chest rose and fell softly. His face, though exhausted, was alive with a peace she hadn't seen since Italy.
He was real.
Breathing.
Alive.
Her tears fell immediately.
Camila leaned in and whispered, "He's been waiting for you."
Sofia nodded, stepping forward slowly, as if afraid he might vanish.
She reached the side of the bed and lowered herself into the chair Camila had occupied for hours.
Camila stepped back quietly, giving them space.
Sofia brushed her trembling fingers gently against Ethan's hand.
The touch was feather-light.
But Ethan stirred instantly.
He blinked.
His eyes opened—slowly, heavily.
Until they landed on her.
Sofia froze.
Ethan stared at her, confused at first, like he was dreaming.
Then his breath hitched.
"Sofia?" he whispered, voice raspy.
She bowed her head, overcome by a sob she couldn't hold back.
"Yes," she cried. "It's me."
He reached toward her, hand weak, trembling.
She took it immediately, pressing it to her cheek.
"You came," he whispered, disbelief coloring every syllable.
"I came," she cried softly. "I would've come sooner—I should've—Ethan, I'm so sorry."
He shook his head faintly. "No. You're here. That's all I need."
She leaned forward, resting her forehead against the side of his hand.
"I thought I lost you," she whispered, voice breaking. "I thought—"
"I'm here," he breathed. "I'm right here."
Her tears soaked into his skin.
He reached for her face with effort, thumb brushing her cheek.
"You're really here," he whispered.
She nodded, choking on emotion. "I am. I'm not leaving."
Ethan let out a shaky breath, tears filling his own eyes.
"I missed you," he whispered.
Sofia's whole body trembled with the force of it. "I missed you for so long, Ethan. Every day. Every breath."
He weakly smiled. "You still talk too much when you're crying."
She laughed through her tears, the sound breaking into a sob.
"Still making jokes even half-dead," she whispered.
He squeezed her hand, weak but sure. "Only for you."
Behind them, Camila stood silently, watching, unseen. She felt something loosen in her chest—something painful and beautiful all at once.
She had wanted this.
She had fought for this.
And seeing Sofia collapse into Ethan's arms, seeing Ethan smile for the first time in days…
Camila knew she was watching something bigger than heartbreak, bigger than love, bigger than distance or mistakes.
She was watching two souls finally stop running.
Ethan's eyes fluttered, heavy.
"Stay," he whispered.
Sofia leaned close. "I'm not leaving this room. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not until you're well."
He smiled faintly. "Good."
His eyes closed, but he didn't let go of her hand.
Sofia rested her head beside him, tears falling silently, but her breath finally steady.
Camila stepped out quietly, closing the door behind her.
Inside the room, for the first time since Italy…
Ethan and Sofia breathed the same air.
And nothing in the world felt more right.