Between the desks

Chapter 79

Two weeks later...

Amren's POV

Today was the day. After two long weeks of being confined to a hospital bed, healing, and trying to forget the pain, I was finally going home. Two weeks of restless nights, surgeries, and whispers of recovery. I had slept, I had healed, but it wasn't just my body that was mending. My heart, my mind—they had gone through something too. And through it all, two constants remained by my side: Lily and Professor Olsen.

Professor Olsen had been a steady presence in my hospital room, though after her confession, we hadn't spoken about it much. It hung between us, unspoken, but not forgotten. Maybe it was because I was too focused on healing, or maybe because she was determined to keep me busy with the same. Her gentle reminders to rest, her hand gripping mine whenever the pain was too much—it became the rhythm of our days. There were no long conversations about what had been said, but there didn't need to be. Holding hands felt like enough, as if our connection spoke more than words ever could. Her touch had become so familiar, so comforting, that it felt like an extension of myself now. Whenever she had to leave, her absence felt oddly incomplete, like I was missing a part of myself.

"Are you ready to go?" Lily's voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. She stood there with a wheelchair, grinning from ear to ear. The car was waiting outside, the final step between me and home.

I raised an eyebrow, smirking at her. "I thought you'd never ask," I joked, trying to make light of how awkward it felt to be leaving the hospital.

My arm was still very much broken, encased in a heavy cast that felt like it weighed more than my entire body. The cast covered nearly all of it, a constant reminder of the accident I had survived. My ribs still ached with every movement, but the internal bleeding had healed after surgery, and for the most part, the doctors had declared me "good to go." I didn't feel entirely new or fresh, but I was alive, and that was enough.

Getting into the wheelchair was another battle entirely. My legs felt weak, and I had to shift awkwardly to avoid bumping my arm. Lily found the whole process way too amusing.

"Stop laughing, bitch," I grumbled, giving her a side-eye as she wheeled me down the hospital corridor.

"Oh no," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "The disabled person gets angry. What will I do?" She snorted, pushing me toward the exit with exaggerated care.

I lifted my good hand, flipping her the finger. "The moment I can move without wincing, I'm getting back at you," I promised, my voice teasing but full of affection. That was how we were—our love language was always wrapped in sarcasm. That's how we had always gotten through things, laughing and teasing, even when life threw the worst at us.

Finally, we reached the outside world. The moment we stepped through those doors, a breeze hit my face, and it felt like the first breath of freedom in forever. The sun was shining, but it wasn't too hot. Just the perfect amount of warmth and light. And the first thing that hit me—what I craved more than anything—was the smell of fresh air.

I hadn't smoked in two weeks. I had told myself I'd quit, that the accident was a wake-up call, but the second I was out of the hospital, all those promises faded. Lily, naturally, was already pulling out her cigarettes, offering me one with a grin.

We both lit up, and I took the first drag with a groan of satisfaction. "God, I missed this."

"You missed cancer?" Lily's sarcasm was sharp as ever, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

I snorted, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Everything's better than getting run over by a truck."

Lily shoved my shoulder lightly, careful not to hit my cast, but still playful. "Fair point, I guess."

It was these moments I had missed more than I realized. The small things, the silly banter, the way we could find humor even in the darkest times. Sitting there in a wheelchair, smoking a cigarette outside a hospital, it felt like a weird sort of victory. Like I had survived something huge, and now, I was reclaiming all the little parts of myself that I'd lost in the chaos.

When we were done, we piled into Lily's car. The ride home felt surreal. The city passed by in a blur of colors and sounds, and I found myself watching the streets, the buildings, with a strange sense of nostalgia. I hadn't been gone that long, but it felt like a lifetime had passed since I had last been out in the world. Every bump in the road made my ribs ache, but I didn't care. I was heading home, and that was all that mattered.

But as we drove, there was something else tugging at me. It wasn't just the hospital I was leaving behind. It wasn't just the accident that I had survived. There was a part of me that was missing something—or rather, someone. I stared out the window, feeling that familiar flutter of nervousness in my chest, a reminder of the confession that had gone unsaid since it had slipped from Professor Olsen's lips.

I missed her.

I hadn't realized how much I'd come to depend on her presence until now. In those quiet moments between the pain and the healing, she had been there. Holding my hand, calming my fears, just being... there. And now that I was going home, the thought of not seeing her as often felt strange. Wrong, even.

Lily must have noticed my silence because she glanced over, raising an eyebrow. "You okay?"

I forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah... just glad to be going home."

She didn't say anything for a moment, but the look on her face told me she wasn't buying it. She always knew when I was hiding something, but thankfully, she didn't push it. Instead, she just cranked up the radio and let the music fill the car, the two of us falling into comfortable silence.

I was going home. And maybe, just maybe, I'd figure out what home really meant now that everything had changed.