My Enemy's Daughter (Edited)

Chapter 64

Samuel's POV

Seeing Fiona's slow but steady transformation filled me with a sense of hope I hadn't felt in a long time. Each day brought a new milestone-small, but significant. She was still fragile, but I could see her determination as she fought to regain her strength. It was a humbling process, watching her. And every day, I thanked God for the progress she'd made. For sparing her life. For giving us another chance.

She'd found a way to silently enquire about Bruno, she looked so worried and I was pleased to tell her Bruno was doing much better than before. But she still looked anxious

To make her feel better, Bruno came later that week, from his own room in the hospital to visit her and Fiona finally relaxed

She was still pushing herself, though. Even on her weakest days, when she could hardly lift her hand, I'd catch her trying to do more than she should. But I didn't blame her. I understood how hard it was to stay still when you've been through so much. Sometimes, she pushed too hard, and I had to remind her to rest. She doesn't like it, but she listens... eventually.

Her movements grew stronger, more controlled. She was holding things now, lifting small objects like water cups and silverware. I had even caught her once trying to brush her own hair, though the nurse had to finish the job. And then, finally, after weeks of watching her slowly build strength, I saw her take her first steps. She held on to the bed for support, but she was standing. Standing on her own two feet.

Though there was still the issue with her voice. The bullet, buried deep in her chest, had left a lasting impact. When she tries to speak, the pain is too much. The doctors had her working on breathing exercises, humming, soft sounds to strengthen her vocal cords. It was hard for her, and I saw the frustration in her eyes when she struggled to even hum a simple note. But every day, she tried.

Then one morning, as I sat beside her bed, I heard her humming-a soft, steady sound. It was faint at first, but then it grew clearer. She was doing it, really doing it. The melody was sweet, something I didn't recognize, but it filled me with an overwhelming sense of pride. I closed my eyes and just listen, my heart swelling with love for her. Fiona, my fighter. My miracle.

As the days went by, I heard her hum more often, sometimes in the mornings, sometimes while she was walking around her room. I didn't think she even noticed she was doing it half the time, but I did. And it gave me hope that maybe, one day, I'd hear her speak again.

Then, one day, she did something that shook me. I was sitting by her bed, flipping through a book, when I heard her voice-clear as day.

"I love you."

I froze, staring at her in disbelief. Did she just...? I looked up, and there she is, smiling at me like she'd been waiting for this moment for weeks.

"Say it again," I whispered, barely able to believe my ears.

"I love you," she repeated, her voice a little stronger now. "I've been practicing... every day. In the bathroom, when you're not here."

I blinked back tears, overwhelmed. She'd been doing this in secret, working on her voice so the first thing she could say to me would be those words. "Fiona..." I pulled her into my arms, holding her as tight as I dared without hurting her. "I love you too. So much."

When I kissed her, it was soft and gentle, but my hand instinctively reached for her hair. And then I feel it-the scar. The reminder of the day I hurt her, of the day I shoved her so hard she hit her head. Guilt floods me, and I pulled back.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, my voice breaking. "For everything."

Her brows furrow. "It's okay, Samuel. That's all in the past."

But I couldn't shake it. "No, it's not okay. Look at you, Fiona. You're here, in this hospital bed, because of me. You took a bullet for me. You almost died because of my stupid revenge plan."

"Samuel, stop." Her voice was soft, but firm. "If it weren't for that plan, we wouldn't have met. We wouldn't have this. Or do you regret meeting me?"

"Of course not!" I snapped, instantly regretting the sharpness in my tone. "I just... I don't want you to suffer because of my mistakes."

She sighed, and for a moment, she was silent. Then she looked up at me with those eyes that seemed to see straight through to my soul. "Everything that's happened, I believe it was all part of God's divine plan. You, me, everything. I don't regret a single moment."

I took a deep breath as her words sunk in. "I'm just... grateful you're still with me," I said softly. "I'll never stop being grateful."

She smiled and leaned in, kissing me again. And once again, I was hit by a heady feeling of peace.

The door swinging open, and the doctor walked in, catching us mid-kiss. "Well, well," he said with a chuckle. "Looks like someone's feeling better."

Fiona grins up at him. "I'm ready to leave, Doctor. Can't you just discharge me already?"

The doctor laughed and shook his head. "You're doing great, but we still need to keep you under observation for a few more days. Just to be sure."

Fiona pouted, giving him the most adorable sad face I'd ever seen. "But I'm fine," she whined, glancing between me and the doctor.

"Let's not rush things," I said, smiling at her. "You'll leave when the doctor says you're ready."

She gave me a playful glare, but I could see the humor in her eyes. The doctor finished checking her over and nodded approvingly. "You're making amazing progress, Fiona. Just a few more days, and you'll be out of here."

She sighed dramatically. "Fine. But only because you say so."

The doctor winked at me as he leaves. "I'll leave you two lovebirds to get back to it. Seems like that's the best medicine for her."

As soon as the door closed, I turned to her with a grin. "You heard the doctor. It's official. Kissing you is part of your treatment now."

She laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound I've heard in weeks. I leaned in to kiss her again, jokingly muttering, "Doctor's orders."

She Hume's in response, and for a split second, I was lost in the moment, thinking about how far we've come. And then, as my hand slid into her hair, a different thought entered my mind-one far less innocent. My body reacted to her, the warmth of her skin against mine, the taste of her lips, and I couldn't help but think of what it'll be like when she's fully recovered.

Soon, I told myself. Soon.

But for now, I pulled back, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, and whispered, "I'm just happy you're here."