We are not going back

Chapter sixty-five

I woke up to the faint beeping of machines and a dull ache in my body, the kind of pain that felt like it belonged to someone else. The room was hazy, a blur of white walls and soft murmurs, but the first thing I saw clearly was Kamala’s face- her eyes red and puffy, cheeks streaked with dried tears. She was holding my hand, gripping it so tightly I thought it might break. Her lips moved, words spilling out in whispers, but I couldn’t catch them all.

"Please, Eleonora, please wake up. I need you. I can't do this without you."

I blinked slowly, my throat dry, and managed to croak out a sound. Kamala gasped, her head snapping up to meet my gaze. She let out a sob, her face crumpling as she kissed my hand over and over, whispering a string of thank-yous like a prayer.

"You’re awake," she said, her voice trembling. "Oh my God, you’re awake."

I tried to speak again, but my mouth felt like sandpaper, and all I could manage was a weak, raspy, “What…?”

Kamala’s tears fell harder, but this time, they were tears of joy. She pressed her forehead to my hand, shaking her head in disbelief. “I thought I lost you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. "I thought we were both- "

I blinked again, the fog slowly lifting from my mind, but something wasn’t right. Memories were jumbled, fragments of the event- gunshots, panic, Kamala’s limp body beside me. I struggled to make sense of it, a knot tightening in my chest.

“What happened?” I finally managed, my voice rough and unfamiliar. “Am I… Are we…?”

“You saved me,” Kamala said, her eyes wide and earnest. "You saved my life."

I felt her words, but they didn’t sink in. All I could remember was the cold weight of her body against mine, the way the world seemed to slip away. I couldn’t have saved her. I barely survived.

Movement to my left caught my attention, and I turned my head to see my brother. My brother. After twenty-six years, there he was, standing there like a ghost from another lifetime. We hadn’t spoken much since I’d left for the States. The distance between us had been so vast it felt impossible to close. But now he was here, eyes filled with something I couldn’t place. Relief? Sadness?

“Hoe gaan dit, sussie?” he asked in Afrikaans, his voice low and soft.

A lump formed in my throat. It had been so long since I’d heard my native tongue, since I’d heard his voice. I swallowed hard, my eyes welling up. "Ek weet nie…" I whispered, feeling overwhelmed. I didn’t know how I was. I didn’t know how any of this was real.

He nodded, stepping closer. "Ons het gedink jy is weg," he said, his voice thick. "Ek het… ek het nie geweet of ek jou weer sou sien nie."

Kamala didn’t understand our words, but she was still holding my hand tightly, tears streaming down her face as she watched us. I looked at her, trying to ground myself, trying to remember why I was here and not- wherever I thought I had been.

Tyler was there too, standing just behind Kamala. He was crying openly, his usual confidence and flamboyance stripped away, leaving only raw, unfiltered emotion. I hadn’t seen him like that before, not ever. His tears were for me, and it hit me harder than I expected.

Doug stood beside him, his eyes glassy as he nodded at me with a soft, encouraging smile. He had always been supportive, always warm. He mouthed something -thank God- before dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief.

There were more faces. Oliver. Amelia. Richard. Richard’s face was wet with tears, a mixture of happiness and sadness that I couldn’t fully read.

But I couldn’t find the one face I dreaded.