We Shall Meet Again

Part 17

The next time Sabrina woke up, the world felt a little clearer, the sharp edges of pain dulled to a more manageable throb. She blinked against the soft light filtering in through the window, her mind sluggish as she tried to piece together the events that had brought her here. The memory of the accident flashed briefly in her mind—the car, the screech of tires, Xavier's panicked voice—and she winced at the thought, a pang of anxiety tightening in her chest.

But then her eyes landed on Xavier. He was still there, slouched in the chair next to her bed, his head resting in his hands. He looked utterly exhausted, his hair a mess, and his clothes rumpled from having clearly been slept in. The sight of him brought a warmth to her chest, a gentle reassurance that she wasn't alone.

Sabrina shifted slightly, the movement drawing Xavier's attention. His head snapped up, and their eyes locked. Relief flooded his face as he quickly sat up straighter, leaning closer to her bed, concern etched deep into his features. "You're awake," he breathed, his voice soft but tinged with worry. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she rasped, her throat dry and scratchy. "Sore, but better."

Without hesitation, Xavier reached for a cup of water on the small table beside her bed and held it out for her. She took a few sips, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat, and then she handed it back to him with a grateful nod, her fingers brushing against his.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavily between them. Sabrina could see the guilt etched into Xavier's face, the way his brow furrowed in concern every time he looked at her. It was clear that he was still grappling with the aftermath of the accident, and her heart ached at the sight.

"You've been here the whole time?" she asked softly, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it from him.

Xavier nodded, his jaw tightening slightly as he looked away for a moment, guilt washing over him. "I couldn't leave," he admitted, his voice low. "Not after... I just couldn't."

Sabrina's heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. She could see how much he was struggling—his own feelings, the way he had pushed her away, and now the guilt of her getting hurt. She wanted to reach out, to pull him close, to let him know that he didn't have to carry this burden alone.

"Xavier," she said gently, reaching for his hand. He looked back at her, his eyes full of conflict. "This wasn't your fault."

"I shouldn't have walked away," he muttered, shaking his head. "If I hadn't—"

"You couldn't have known what was going to happen," she interrupted, her voice firm but kind. "Don't do that to yourself. I don't blame you, okay? I need you to hear that."

Xavier's eyes searched hers, as if he was trying to believe her words, but the doubt still lingered on his face. Sabrina squeezed his hand, trying to offer him some comfort, even in her weakened state.

"You've been here for me," she said quietly. "That's what matters now. You showed up, and you're still here."

Xavier took a deep breath, his gaze softening as he looked down at their intertwined hands. "I don't know why you put up with me," he murmured, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. "I've done nothing but push you away, and you still... you still care."

Sabrina smiled, though it was tired. "Because I see you, Xavier. I see the real you, even if you try to hide it. And I care about that person."

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers as if trying to understand how she could still feel that way after everything. "You deserve better," he said quietly, almost to himself, the words heavy with meaning.