LILAC
The next morning arrives slowly, the sun filtering through the thin hospital curtains and casting s o f t patterns on the floor. I wake to the gentle hum of machines and the faint scent of antiseptic. The comforting weight of a blanket surrounds me, but it feels heavier today.
I glance to my right, and there he is—Quentin, fast asleep in the chair next to my bed. His hair is tousled, and I can see the faint lines of worry etched on his forehead even in sleep. I smile softly, feeling warmth in my heart at the sight of him.
He's here, and despite everything, that gives me a sense of stability amidst the uncertainty that lies ahead.
Quietly, I reach out, gently brushing a stray hair from his face. He stirs slightly, blinking awake. When our eyes meet, his face lights up with a smile that chases away the shadows of worry.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," I say, my voice still hoarse but filled with warmth.
"Good morning, beautiful," he replies, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "How are you feeling?"
"Better, I think," I answer, sitting up slightly. "At least I'm not dizzy anymore."
"That's good to hear," he says, leaning closer. "France said he'd be back today for the tests. Are you ready for that?"
I nod, but the knot of anxiety in my stomach tightens at the thought. "I guess I have to be."
"Hey," he says, his tone softening as he takes my hand. "Whatever happens, we'll get through it. I know this battle is tough, but you must know that I do believe in you, Lilac. I love you. . . so much."
I appreciate his reassurance more than he knows. "Thank you, Quentin. I really don't know what I'd do without you. . . I love you even more."
He chuckles lightly, but his eyes are serious. "Hey, you'd be just fine. You're stronger than you realize, Lilac. But I'm glad to be here, to be part of this with you."
We share a moment of silence, and I squeeze his hand tightly. It's moments like these that ground me, reminding me that love can be a p o w e r f u l force in the face of fear.
After a while, a soft knock interrupts our quiet moment. The door creaks open, and France steps in, clipboard in hand. "Good morning, you two," he greets us with a warm smile. "I hope you're feeling a bit better, Lilac."
YOU ARE READING
Skies & Florets
RomanceShe has built a quiet life in her small-town flower shop, surrounded by the blooms she's always loved. But as the years pass, the memory of her childhood friend-the boy who once promised to be by her side-lingers like a ghost among the petals. Now g...
