The woman’s gaze flicks between us, unimpressed. “She is exhausted,” she says in accented English. “Her body is fighting heat, shock, and fear.” She gestures around her stomach. “And life.”
My blood goes cold. “The baby?”
“Okay,” she nods. “But the mother pushed herself.”
Guilt detonates in my chest.
“She has a fever,” the woman continues. “Dehydration. Bruising. Her head was struck. The herbs will help her sleep and cool the blood. Safe for the baby.”
I nod, though my brain is barely processing language. I stare at the woman, wanting her to predict everything. Needing reassurance she can’t give.
“She will wake.” The woman shows me compassion. “When her body is ready.” She inclines her head once and slips past me, quiet as a breath.
For hours, I sit on the edge of the bed. I don’t touch Roxy again. I don’t trust myself.
“You should eat something.” Alf leans in the doorway.
“I’m not hungry.” I drag a hand down my face.
“When she wakes up, she will need you strong.” He offers a voice of reason I don’t fucking want to hear right now.
And he hands me a sandwich. I stare at the plate while I feel his stare on me. Sighing, I take a bite so he will leave.
“She crossed an ocean for you,” Alf says, clearly planning to stay.
“I didn’t ask her to,” I quip.
“No.” He pauses. “But you mattered enough for her to do it anyway.”
I swallow hard.
“You don’t know that.” But why else did she come? “I left her. I fucking left her.” The truth tastes like rust. “I thought giving her space was the right thing.”
Alf snorts softly. “Space doesn’t heal fear. Presence does.”
I look at Roxy again. At her moving chest. At the faint crease between her eyebrows like she’s still fighting, even in sleep.
“Exactly. And I wasn’t present. Yet again, I wasn’t where it mattered. This is my fault,” I whisper.
Alf steps closer. “You weren’t there because youtrusted her strength.” He pats my shoulder. “That’s respect.”
I shake my head. “I failed once. I chose obedience over loyalty. I swore I wouldn’t do that again.”
He sits beside me. “You didn’t. You came the moment you knew. And as much as you enjoy wallowing, you showed up the moment it mattered. You’re here now. When she needs you the most.”
“I’m here now,” I parrot. I’m where it matters.
“Now, eat your sandwich, and stop the blaming game. It’s getting old.” He shuffles across the room. Before he leaves, he turns. “Noah would be proud of you.”
I watch Roxy breathing, and for the first time in my life, I remember my friend; not for my own loss, but for the person he was.
Hours pass. Or minutes. Time dissolves into the rhythm of her breathing.
I count them like prayers. My fingers rest on the edge of the mattress, close enough to feel her warmth.
I don’t sleep. I don’t move.
Outside, thunder rolls again, closer this time. Deeper. The kind that rattles the bones of the house.
