My life

New home

MICAS POV

I returned to the hospital just as the afternoon light began to soften through the windows. The doctor met me in the hallway, his expression calm but firm. He explained that Genevieve was medically cleared to leave, but not without conditions. A strict diet, small meals spread throughout the day, food chosen to gently wake her appetite instead of overwhelm it. Another round of medication in a week. Follow-ups. Rest. Safety. 

I nodded through it all, but my thoughts were already with her. None of his words mattered more than the fact that she was alive. That she could leave that white room and start something new. 

When I stepped into her hospital room, the sight of her stole the breath from my lungs. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, feet not even quite touching the floor, talking quietly with a nurse. For a moment, she didn't see me. 

And in that moment, she looked... light. 

Not healed. Not whole. But lighter. Her shoulders weren't hunched the way they usually were. Her hands weren't clenched in her lap. There was a softness to her expression I hadn't seen before, like she wasn't bracing for a blow that hadn't come yet. 

Then she noticed me. 

Fear flickered across her face,quick, instinctive, learned. It hurt more than I expected. But just as quickly, she smoothed it away and offered me a smile. 

It wasn't real. 

I'd already learned the difference. This smile didn't reach her eyes. It was careful. Polite. A shield. 

She asked how long it would take for me to take her home, and when I told her only a couple of minutes, that it was just a short walk,she frowned, confusion knitting her brows together. 

She told me she thought I meant her old home. 

The word old twisted something sharp in my chest. I kept my voice steady when I told her the truth. That she would never have to go back there. That she was coming home with me. To my house. Where she would be safe. 

She didn't argue. She didn't cry. She just nodded slowly, like she was filing the information away to process later. Like she was afraid to react too strongly in case the offer disappeared. 

She had nothing with her. No bag. No belongings. Just the clothes on her body,my shirt hanging off her frame, sleeves swallowing her hands. It made my chest ache. Someone should have cared enough to give her things. Clothes. Comfort. Choice. 

As we left the hospital, I matched my steps to hers, careful not to rush. Outside, the air was salty and clean, the ocean close enough to feel even if you couldn't see it yet. She breathed it in like she wasn't used to being allowed to enjoy something so simple. 

As we walked, I watched her take everything in. Her eyes moved constantly,buildings, people, the sky,wide with wonder and disbelief. Like she'd stepped into a world she hadn't known existed. 

When my house finally came into view, she stopped walking. 

It stood apart from the others, large but not cold. White walls, two stories, windows that caught the light just right. One of the largest non-pack houses, though that wasn't what mattered to me. What mattered was the way she stared at it like it might disappear if she blinked. 

"This is... yours?" she asked quietly. 

"Our's," I corrected gently, though I didn't push it. Not yet. 

Inside, the house was quiet. Peaceful. No shouting. No tension hanging in the air. She stepped carefully, like she wasn't sure she was allowed to touch anything. That she might break some unspoken rule just by existing in the space. 

I led her upstairs, every instinct in me screaming to slow down, to reassure her, to promise things I knew I had to prove instead. When we reached the bedroom, I paused at the doorway. 

"This is where you'll stay," I told her. "You don't have to share. You don't have to decide anything right now. You just need to rest." 

She nodded again, that same careful nod. 

As she stepped inside, something settled in my chest,heavy and fierce and unyielding. I didn't know how long it would take for her to believe me. I didn't know how much damage had been done or how long it would take to heal. 

But I knew this much with absolute certainty: 

She was home. 
And no one would ever take that from her again.