Emilia's POV

They take her to my room. Adrian lays her down on my bed carefully, as if she might break. As if she's not already broken. Lucia is barking orders, grabbing clean towels, pressing them over Valeria's wound, but all I can do is stand there—frozen. The warmth on my hands is sticky, thick, crimson, hers.

I can't breathe. I press my palm over my chest, willing my body to move, to do something—but I'm crumbling.

Lucia's voice barely cuts through the haze. "Adrian, hurry!" she shouts, and I see him fumbling with his phone, dialing with shaking fingers. "Come on, come on," he mutters under his breath.

The scent of blood is everywhere, choking me. This is my fault.

She came back to me, covered in blood, clutching the pocketknife I gave her, whispering that I was safe now—and now she's dying. Because of me.

A sob rips from my throat, raw and uncontrollable. I collapse onto my knees beside the bed, gripping the sheets so hard my knuckles turn white. "Please," I whisper, not even sure who I'm begging. "Please, don't take her from me."

My vision blurs. I don't even register Lucia kneeling in front of me, grabbing my face between her hands.

"Miss Emilia!" Her voice is sharp, but her touch is gentle. "Look at me."

I can't. I can't look at anything but Valeria's still body. Lucia grips my shoulders. "You need to breathe."

"I—" My throat locks up. I shake my head wildly. "I can't—I can't—"

Lucia shakes me, just once, firmly. "You can. You have to," she insists. "She's still here, but she needs you to be strong."

Her words hit something deep inside me, cutting through the suffocating fog. I suck in a sharp breath, gasping, choking on air.

Lucia nods, steadying me. "Good. Now keep breathing. The doctor is coming."

As if on cue, there's a loud knock, and Adrian rushes to open the door. A man steps in—older, serious, carrying a medical bag. The doctor.

He takes one look at Valeria's state and immediately moves into action. "Get me clean towels, warm water—now!" he orders.

Lucia hurries away.

I don't move. I can't. I sit beside Valeria, watching helplessly as he works, as he tries to save her. Her face is pale. Too pale and I reach for her hand. It's ice cold.

I lace my fingers with hers, pressing my forehead against them. "You promised me," I whisper. "You said you'd come back

The doctor's voice cuts through the chaos, firm but unmoving. "Miss Emilia, you need to leave the room."

I don't move.

I grip Valeria's hand tighter, pressing it to my chest, feeling her cold skin against my own. No. No, I can't leave her.

The doctor kneels beside her, his hands already working fast, checking her pulse, peeling back the blood-soaked fabric from her wound. He doesn't even look at me when he speaks again. "You're in the way. I need space to work."

Space? Space?! Does he not understand?

I shake my head frantically, my nails digging into the sheets. "I'm not leaving her."

Lucia appears beside me, kneeling down, her hands on my shoulders. "Miss Emilia, listen to me. The doctor needs to focus. You have to let him do his job."

I barely hear her because all I see is Valeria but she's still. Too still.

Her chest rises in shallow, weak breaths, her lips parted as if she wants to say something—but there's nothing. Just silence.

The doctor reaches for his bag, pulling out medical tools. "If she's going to make it, I need to stop the bleeding now. You have to go."

"No!" I clutch Valeria's wrist, my voice breaking. "No, I won't leave her—please! I need to stay!"

Adrian is suddenly there too, his hands wrapping around my arms, firm but careful. "Come on, Miss Emilia," he says, his voice softer than usual. "Let us help her. You don't want to be in the way."

I thrash against him, my body jerking violently, fighting against their grip.

"Let go of me!" My scream is raw, piercing. "She needs me! Don't take me away from her!"

Lucia's arms circle around me, pulling me back. "Shh, Miss Emilia, I know, I know," she whispers, but I don't stop struggling. I can't stop struggling.

But Adrian is stronger. He grips me firmly, prying me away from the bed. My fingers slip from Valeria's as they drag me back.

"No—no, please! Please, let me stay!" I sob, twisting in their hold, desperate to reach her again.

Valeria doesn't move. She doesn't open her eyes. I need her to tell me it's okay. Why isn't she stopping me from leaving her.

The last thing I see before Adrian and Lucia forcefully pull me out of the room is the doctor pressing down on Valeria's wound, his hands working quickly, his expression grave.

Then the door slams shut in my face.

sit frozen outside my bedroom door, my back pressed against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around my knees. My entire body feels numb, as if I'm drifting somewhere outside myself, detached from reality. The soft creak of the door pulls me from the fog in my head, and I watch as the nurse walks past me, carrying bags of blood.

My eyes drop to my hands.

They're still stained with her blood. Dark, sticky, drying against my skin. It's under my nails, streaked along my wrists, smeared on my clothes. I rub my palms against my thighs, but it doesn't come off. It won't come off. My stomach twists violently, and I suck in a sharp breath, trying to steady myself.

Valeria acted like she hated me. She pushed me away at every chance she got, made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with me. So why?

Why did she risk her life for me? Why does she keep throwing herself into danger for me?

My fingers curl into fists, my nails biting into my skin.

I don't understand.

A hand touches my shoulder gently. I flinch, looking up to find Lucia kneeling beside me, worry etched into every part of her face.

"Miss Emilia," she says softly, carefully, like she's afraid I'll break.

I shake my head. "She—she shouldn't have done this." My voice is barely above a whisper, hoarse from all the screaming, the crying.

Lucia exhales, her eyes filled with something I can't quite name. Pity? Sadness? Understanding? I don't know.

"She knew what she was doing," Lucia says, voice gentle but firm. "She chose this."

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh, the sound foreign even to my own ears. "She hates me, Lucia. She's spent every second pushing me away. So why would she—why would she do this?"

Lucia's brows knit together, and she hesitates, as if weighing her words. Then, finally, she says, "Maybe you don't see it, but I do. She doesn't hate you, Miss Emilia. She never did."

I turn away, my throat tightening. I can't listen to this. I can't believe it.

Because if I do—if I let myself believe that Valeria doesn't hate me—then I have to face the unbearable truth.

That she nearly died for me..That she might still die for me.

That she killed for me? And I can't handle that. I won't handle that.

So I shake my head again, this time more frantically. "No. No, she's reckless, she's stubborn, she—" My voice breaks, and I cover my mouth with my hands, choking back a sob. "She wasn't supposed to do this."

Lucia sighs, reaching for my hand, but I pull away.

"I can't lose her," I whisper, the words trembling from my lips. "I can't.. I.. I love her"

It escapes me like a confession ripped from the deepest part of my soul. Like a truth that has always been there, waiting—aching—to be spoken.

My breath catches. My heart pounds. Oh God.

I love her.

The realization crashes into me with the force of a tidal wave, stealing the air from my lungs. My entire body trembles, and for a second, I think I might be sick.

I press my hand to my chest, as if trying to steady the erratic beat of my heart, but it's useless.

A choked sob breaks free from my throat, and then I'm falling apart. Completely, utterly breaking.

Lucia reaches for me, but I barely register her touch as I curl in on myself, my body shaking violently.

"I love her," I sob again, my voice cracking. "Oh God, I love her."

Tears blur my vision, hot and endless, as the weight of my own confession crushes me.

Because now, more than ever, I know one thing with absolute certainty.

---

Hours pass and the world around me feels distant, like I'm floating in some cruel, muted space where time moves too slow and too fast at once. My body shakes, but I can't feel it. My breathing is uneven, but I don't hear it. The only thing I can focus on is the blood—her blood—staining my hands.

I can't stop staring at it.

It's dried now, dark and cracked along the lines of my palms, under my nails, smudged on my wrists. I rub at it furiously, my chest rising and falling with panicked breaths, but it won't go away. It's in me. On me.

Lucia is speaking, but the words don't register. Her hand grips my shoulder, trying to steady me, but I feel like I'm slipping—falling into some abyss I can't escape.

She was here. She came back to me, just like she promised. Her body collapsing against mine, her voice so weak, whispering: You're safe now.

Safe. She thought of me even when she was barely holding on. Even when she was bleeding out in my arms.

My breath hitches, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

The thought sears through my mind, branding me from the inside out.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I was supposed to hate her. For pushing me away. For treating me like I was nothing. For making me feel like I was an inconvenience in her life. But I never could. Not really.

Because even in her coldness, I felt safe with her. Even when she barely looked at me, I found myself looking for her.

Even when she tried so hard to make me believe she didn't care—I knew she did.

She was there in my darkest moment, standing in front of me, reaching for me, asking me to trust her. And I did. With my life.

I see her in flashes—her steady voice guiding me through the night we escaped. Her rare laughter in the kitchen, biting into a tamale like it was the greatest thing she had ever tasted. The way she looked at me when she tightened the belt of my robe, pulling me closer without meaning to.

Every moment, every glance, every touch—it meant something. And now she's in there, fighting for her life because I let her go. Again! I let her go the first night, I promised her she will be safe but I couldn't keep that promise.

My chest tightens, and I clutch at it, gasping. "I—Lucia, I can't breathe—"

Lucia grips my face, forcing me to look at her. "Miss Emilia, listen to me. You're in shock."

I shake my head violently. "No, no, it's not that. It's—" My hands tremble as I press them against my chest, as if I can physically stop the ache clawing at me. "It feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. I— I love her, Lucia. Oh God, I love her."

Lucia's face softens, but she says nothing. What is there to say? She probably already knew. Everyone probably knew except for me.

Before she can speak, the door creaks open. My entire body snaps upright.

The doctor stands there, removing his gloves. The sight of blood on them makes my stomach churn, and I don't even realize I've stopped breathing until he speaks.

"She's alive." The air rushes back into my lungs in a shuddering gasp. But he isn't done.

"Her condition is critical. She lost a significant amount of blood, and though we've managed to stabilize her for now, she's not out of danger yet. We'll have to wait and see if she regains consciousness."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Wait?

He's telling me I have to wait?

I shoot up so fast that Lucia barely catches me before I stumble forward. "I need to see her."

The doctor sighs. "She needs rest. I suggest you do the same."

I shake my head, already moving toward the door. "I need to see her."

The doctor hesitates before stepping aside. "Don't disturb her," he warns.

I barely hear him as I push past, my hands trembling as I reach for the door handle.

The door creaks softly as I push it open, stepping into the dimly lit room. The moment I see her, the breath leaves my lungs.

Valeria lies motionless on my bed, her body still, her face pale—too pale. The sheets have been changed, but the scent of antiseptic hangs in the air, mixing with something deeper, something metallic. The blood is gone, but I can still see it, feel it on my hands, my clothes.

She looks... fragile.

Valeria is anything but fragile. She is sharp edges, steel beneath skin, a fire that refuses to be put out. But now? Now she looks breakable. And I can't handle it.

My feet move before I realize it, carrying me to her side. I sink onto the edge of the bed, my hands hovering over hers, unsure if I should touch her. Afraid if I do, she'll disappear.

I swallow, trying to push back the lump in my throat. "Valeria..." My voice is barely above a whisper, cracking with everything I can't say.

She doesn't move.

I take a shaky breath, reaching out with trembling fingers, brushing the back of her hand gently. Her skin is warm, but it's a weak kind of warmth, the kind that threatens to slip away if I don't hold onto it.

A sob climbs up my throat, but I swallow it down.

"You said you'd come back." My voice trembles. "You fought so hard to keep that promise, didn't you? You made sure to come back even in this condition you pushed yourself for me."

My fingers tighten around hers.

"I was so—so angry at you for leaving. I told myself that if you came back, I'd scream at you, I'd demand answers, I'd—" My voice breaks, and I let out a shaky laugh. "But then you walked through that door, covered in blood, and none of it mattered anymore. That is one hell of a way to escape my scolding."

I blink rapidly, but the tears come anyway, sliding hot down my cheeks. " As if I can ever scold you."

"Why do you keep doing this?" My grip tightens, my other hand clutching at my chest as if I can hold myself together. "Why do you keep risking your life for me? Why do you care so much when you spent all this time acting like you didn't?"

I let out a breathless, choked sound—half a laugh, half a sob.

"I get it now." My voice wavers, but the words come out steady. "I get why you did it." I shake my head, a bitter smile curling on my lips. "You were never really trying to push me away, were you? You were trying to protect me. From you. From all of this. The world you were trying to protect me from."

I inhale shakily, my thumb brushing over her bruised knuckles.

"But I don't want protection, Valeria. I never did. I just—" My breath catches. "I just wanted you."

Silence stretches between us, her breathing steady but shallow, her chest barely rising and falling beneath the blankets.

I press her hand to my lips, closing my eyes.

"I love you." The words slip out like a confession, like a prayer.

I pull back, wiping my face roughly. "So you better not die on me, do you hear me?" I whisper fiercely. "Because I swear to God, Valeria, if you leave me—if you leave me now—I won't survive it."

My voice cracks on the last word, and I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head.

For the first time in my life, I am terrified.

Because I know what it's like to be helpless. I know what it's like to be trapped in the dark, to have no control over my fate. But this? This is worse.

This is watching someone else fight for their life, knowing there is nothing I can do to bring them back to me.

I lower my head, pressing my forehead against our joined hands, my tears falling freely now.

"Come back to me," I whisper. "Please... just come back to me."