They slide a stretcher beneath her while I stay pressed beside her, one hand still holding pressure against the wound.
Still watching every breath.
Every blink.
Like if I look away for one second, she’ll disappear.
They try to push me back once we hit the pavement outside.
I don’t budge.
“Sir, we need room—”
“No.”
“She needs space.”
“I’m not leaving her.”
The medic studies me for half a second.
Then nods once sharply. “Stay out of the way and keep up.”
Done.
We move fast through hospital doors under brutal fluorescent lights while voices echo around us.
Doctors.
Nurses.
Orders flying everywhere.
Olivia’s eyes flutter open one more time.
And immediately find me.
Always finding me.
“Hey,” I say, walking beside the stretcher.
Her lips barely move.
“…you came…”
Every time.
I bend low enough for only her to hear me.
“I always will.”
Her expression softens faintly.
Then her eyes close again.
Deeper this time.
Too deep.
