Where the Sun meets the Star

11. Torn A part

Chapter 11: Torn Apart

Dr. Amara Velasco’s POV

The following morning, the crisp air carried the scent of salt and pine, a stark contrast to the sterile air of the medical tent. As I watched Kalix load his gear into a military truck, a sense of dread clawed at my chest. This mission felt different—longer, more dangerous, more uncertain. Kalix’s face was calm, as always, his movements efficient, but I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darted over every corner of the camp as if memorizing it. The weight of his impending departure settled on my shoulders, a heavy burden I couldn't shake.

I wanted to say something to him, anything to ease the weight in my chest, but I knew he couldn’t afford to be distracted. Instead, I forced a steady breath and clasped my hands in front of me, my knuckles turning white. This was the life he chose. A life of duty and honor, one that I respected but had only recently begun to understand.

As he finished loading his things, Kalix turned to me, his face softening as he met my gaze. He closed the distance between us, his hands reaching out to rest on my shoulders. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down my spine, a stark reminder of the fragility of our connection.

“Amara, we’ve talked about this.” His voice was a low rumble, laced with concern.

“I know,” I murmured, unable to meet his eyes. “I know you have to go, but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I’m not asking you to stop worrying,” he replied, his tone gentle. “But I need you to trust me. To trust that I’ll come back to you.”

“I do trust you,” I whispered, finally looking up at him. “It’s just…you’ll be gone for so long this time.”

He tilted his head, pressing his forehead to mine, and I closed my eyes, savoring the warmth of his presence, memorizing the feeling of his breath against my skin. “It’s not forever, Amara. Just a few weeks. And when I’m back, we’ll have more time. I promise.”

The finality in his voice, that unyielding certainty, was both a comfort and a pain. With a soft sigh, I reached up, brushing a hand against his cheek, feeling the faint stubble beneath my fingers. “Then come back to me, Kalix. No matter what, just come back.”

“I will,” he promised, his voice a low whisper that settled deep into my heart.

As he pulled away, the space between us felt colder, emptier. I watched him climb into the truck, his team already inside, their faces mirroring his determination. With one final look, he nodded, his eyes holding mine as the truck roared to life and rolled away, kicking up dust that blurred my view.

I stood there long after they’d disappeared, the silence settling around me like a weight. I’d faced many separations in my career, but this one felt like losing a part of myself. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I forced myself to turn away, already feeling the emptiness he’d left behind.

Two Weeks Later

Days blended into one another, each one filled with the same routine—checking patients, distributing medicine, dealing with the daily strains of managing a medical camp in a high-risk area. I threw myself into the work, hoping it would distract me from the constant worry gnawing at my mind. The scent of pine and salt from the nearby ocean mingled with the sterile smell of antiseptic, a stark reminder of the reality we were living in. Kalix’s last message was brief, a quick “I’m safe, don’t worry” that did little to ease the ache in my chest.

Every time my phone buzzed, I felt my heart race, hoping for a message from him, but each time, disappointment settled in when it was just another notification or report from the medical team. I hated how much I missed him, how his absence seemed to create a void that nothing could fill.