trente et un

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After the longest 10 hour flight and 30 minute cab rides of my life, I finally reach the hospital where Alessandra is in.

"Lévesque. Alessandra Lévesque,"  breathless, I tell the female nurse at the reception. I don't even care that I'm still carrying around a huge backpack and my passport with all my papers.

"Are you family?" the nurse inquires, her tone and her eyes shamelessly flirtatious.

Vexed, I exaggerate and firmly say, "She's my fiancée. Where is she?"

Evidently taken aback, the admittedly stunning redhead averts her eyes, clears her throat, and types quickly on her computer. "403. She just came from surgery and she was just transferred back to her room so she won't be awake yet. You may take the elevator on the left—," she says shyly, but I cut her off.

"Thank you so much," I reply before she even finishes her last sentence, as I sprint to the lifts.

There are at least 20 people lining up by the lifts, thanks to the other being broken, so I decide take the stairs.

With a heaving chest, I finally burst through the Fire exit doors of the 4th floor. I sprint down the halls and immediately find room 403.

I open the door, and the sight rips my heart out of my chest.

Eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, and skin even paler than usual, Alessandra was on the bed with a bunch of machines beeping around her. A portion of a white bandage on her left shoulder was peeking  through her shirt, and several tubes were attached to her body. Yet even in this condition, she still takes my breath away.

I drop my bag and papers on the floor as I make my way to Mrs. Lévesque who is approaching me from Alessandra's bedside. She looks as devastated as I.

I envelope Mrs. Lévesque's tiny frame with my arms, and we both begin to weep as soon as our bodies come in contact. I bury my face in her shaking shoulders as she does the same. We don't even exchange any words. The silence of our cries were enough to express how we both feel.

After Mrs. Lévesque and I release each other, I silently walk towards the love of my life. I sit on the chair beside her, and I delicately take one of her cold hands and carefully press it against my lips.

"You promised to stay safe, babe. You said you'd take care," I choke out. "I love you. I'm so sorry I wasn't there—I should've been there for you. I'm sorry I made you leave in the first place. And I'm sorry I didn't get here earlier. Please be all right," I cry. "You're going to wake up, okay? You're not leaving me. You promised you'd come home."

I try to speak more, but my chest feels as if it were pounded by a hammer with every word I manage to let out.

All I can do is silently look at my girl with her freezing hands on my lips, as tears stream down my cheeks, never seeming to stop anytime soon.

I feel a warm hand on my shoulder. "I'll leave you two. Do you want anything to eat?" I hear Mrs. Lévesque say.

I shake my head no.

"Okay. I'll be back. No one's manning the store. The doctors say she won't be awake for a while, but if she does, make sure to call me and the nurses, okay?"

"Is she going to be okay?" I ask desperately, my eyes never leaving Alessandra's sleeping face.

"The doctor says she's still unstable, so we can't really say for sure."

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