Against the Edge

One Step at a Time

The next day, Miguel was discharged and returned home. He lay on his bed, the familiar surroundings of his apartment now feeling heavy with unspoken memories and a weight he couldn't shake. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows on the walls, but even the warmth of the morning couldn't penetrate the fog of his mind.

Blanca watched him, her heart aching at the sight. She remembered the vibrant, confident Miguel who once filled this space with laughter and energy. Now, he seemed so distant, so lost. She gently brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, hoping to bridge the gap between the Miguel she knew and the one before her.

Harvey had just left, his words echoing in Miguel's mind. "You're strong, Miguel. You can get through this. Just take it one day at a time." The hug had felt like a lifeline, a reminder that his father believed in him even when he struggled to believe in himself. But as the door closed behind Harvey, that reassurance began to wane.

"Miguel?" Blanca's voice was soft, breaking the silence that hung between them. "I know you're feeling overwhelmed, and it's okay to take your time. But I'm here, and I want to help you."

He turned his head slightly to look at her, his gaze unfocused. "I don't know how to do this, Blanca. Everything feels... heavy." His voice was hoarse, as if speaking took all the energy he had left.

"I understand," she said, her heart breaking a little more with each word he spoke. "But you don't have to do it alone. You've got me. You can lean on me, okay? We can figure this out together."

Miguel closed his eyes, letting her voice wash over him like a soothing balm. "What if I don't get better? What if this feeling never goes away?"

"Then we'll face it together, just like we've always done," Blanca replied, "I believe in you, and I'll be right by your side every step of the way. You've been through so much, but you're still here. That means something."

He took a deep breath, the weight of her words settling in his chest. He wanted to believe her, to find hope in her faith. "I don't want to disappoint anyone. Not you, not my dad, not myself..."

"You're not a disappointment, Miguel," Blanca said firmly, looking him directly in the eyes. "It's okay to feel lost sometimes. But that doesn't define who you are. You're strong, and you've already fought through so much. Remember that you're not alone in this battle."

Her conviction began to seep into him, a small flicker of warmth igniting in his chest. "What if I fail? What if I don't have the strength to keep going?"

"Then we'll figure it out together," she reassured him again, her voice steady. "Just take it one moment at a time. And remember, you have all of us, your dad, Ethan, Louis, James, Mia, and me. We're not going anywhere."

Miguel felt the pressure in his chest begin to ease, if only slightly. He knew he had a long road ahead, filled with uncertainty and challenges, but for the first time, he didn't feel completely alone. He nodded slowly, accepting her words, allowing a small part of himself to hope.

"Okay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll try."

Blanca smiled, a mixture of relief and determination filling her expression. "That's all I'm asking for. Just try. And remember, I'm right here. You can lean on me, and I'll be your support whenever you need it."

With that, she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, lingering there for a moment. Miguel felt the warmth of her affection wrap around him like a soft blanket, easing some of the heaviness still lodged in his heart.

The room was quiet, bathed in the soft orange hues of the setting sun. A cool breeze filtered through the partially open window, carrying with it the faint sounds of the city below. Miguel lay still, his breaths deep and even. Beside him, Blanca had dozed off, her head resting lightly on the edge of his pillow, one hand still gently tangled in his.