30
LEON
The days blur together, a haze of pain, exhaustion, and fleeting lucidity. I drift in and out of consciousness, the world around me reduced to fragments of sensation and sound.
Mia is the constant in the haze. Her warmth is always by my side at night, her hands fussing with blankets, smoothing over my forehead, or checking my bandages.
Sometimes, I wake to the sound of her humming softly, the melody tugging at some buried corner of my heart. Other times, I catch the edge of her whispered words—half-lovely, half-threatening.
Never those same words I heard through the exhaustion that first night.
When I’m awake long enough to speak, I try to reassure her, but the effort always drains me.
“I’m...fine,” I manage once, my voice barely above a rasp.
She glares at me, her eyes red-rimmed but fierce. “What you are is stubborn. Go back to sleep.”
But her harshness is always mellowed by her touches: a soft press of her hand on mine, a gentle kiss on my forehead.
Then, one day, the haze clears enough for a singular moment of clarity. I wake to a tiny weight being placed in my arms.
“Easy,” Mia whispers, guiding my hands. I look down and see our daughter, Liza. Her little fists wave in the air, her eyes squinting up at me, and for a second, I can’t breathe.
“She’s beautiful,” I manage, my voice cracking. Mia smiles, though her eyes shimmer with tears.
“And here’s her brother,” she says, placing Luca in the crook of my other arm.
My chest tightens—not with pain this time, but with something deeper, something anchoring.
“Your Aunty Isabella has been taking such good care of you, hasn’t she?” Mia coos at them both. “I’ll put them to bed soon. I just wanted them to say hello.”
“It’s good to have them both back,” I breathe.
Mia’s expression softens. “Our family is back together again.”
As the weeks pass, the fog of pain and countering medicines lifts. But my mobility remains limited.
Mia doesn’t let me wallow, not even for a second.
“If you’re strong enough to argue, you’re strong enough to heal,” she says one day, propping pillows behind me.
I stroke along her arm absently as she does, but she snatches it away quickly, shooting me a dark glare. “No. Not again. You areresting,Leon.”
“I’ve missed you.” The words are so devastatingly true, I think for a moment I see her resolve weakening.
It doesn’t last. “You should have thought about that before you came to rescue me with a hole in your chest.”
Dante visits one quiet afternoon, his carefree smile easier than I’ve seen it in months as he leans through my bedroom door. From the glances he keeps chucking out into the hallway, I doubt he’s supposed to be here.
“The Cartel’s licking their wounds,” he says hurriedly. “A ceasefire’s in place. Tentative, but there’s been no pushback. Both sides need time to recover.”
“Not for long. Amos will be planning something.”
“Of course. But for now, rest. We’ll need you at full strength when this peace inevitably falls apart.” Dante smirks before leaning in, conspiring. “And between you and me, Teo doesn’t have the knack for war that you do.”
I chuckle to myself. “Careful, Dante, that sounds like slander.”
“I’m just telling it like it is.” Dante shrugs. “Teo knows I’ve always been a free spirit.”
