SASHA’S POV
I don’t think I’ve ever moved this fast in my life. My feet pound against the pavement as I sprint out of the house, my breath catching in my chest.
I can barely think, barely process anything except the single thought echoing in my head: He’s awake.
The text from the nurse burns in my mind, her words simple but life-changing: Your father is conscious. You should come quickly.
I don’t bother with the car. It feels too slow. Every red light and every pause would suffocate me. Instead, I run, weaving through streets and crowds, my pulse racing.
The hospital isn’t far, but it feels like miles. I don’t care if my hair is wild or if my breathing is ragged. All that matters is seeing him.
When the hospital comes into view, I push harder, nearly stumbling up the front steps. The automatic doors slide open, and the familiar smell of antiseptic floods my senses.
My heart beats like a drum as I rush to the elevators. The ride up is excruciatingly slow, each second stretching endlessly.
Finally, the doors don’t open, and I bolt toward his ward. My sneakers squeak against the polished floor, earning glances from passing nurses, but I don’t care.
Room 212. I skid to a halt in front of the door, my hand hovering over the handle as I try to calm my breathing.
But then I hear it, his voice. Soft, hoarse, and unmistakably his voice.
I push the door open.
And there he is.
My father, sitting upright in his hospital bed, his pale complexion brighter than it’s been in months. His eyes are open,
alert, and when they land on me, they soften into something that makes my chest ache.
“Dad,” I whisper, my voice trembling as tears slip down my cheeks.
“Sasha,” he rasps, his smile weak but genuine. “You came running, didn’t you?”
I don’t even answer. I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his frail shoulders.
He’s thinner than I remember, and his grip on me isn’t as strong as it used to be, but I don’t care. He’s warm. He’s alive.
He hugs me back, his hands patting my back gently. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here. I’m sorry for scaring you.”
“You don’t have to apologise,” I choke out, burying my face in his shoulder. “You came back to me. That’s all that matters.”
He pulls back slightly to look at me, his thumb brushing away a tear on my cheek. “You’ve been strong, haven’t you? Taking care of everything while I was gone?”
I nod, but the lump in my throat keeps me from answering.
“I knew you could handle it,” he says, his voice full of pride. “I always knew you were strong.”
I can’t stop the sob that escapes me. “I wasn’t alone, Dad. I couldn’t have done it without help.”
His brow furrows slightly, confusion flickering across his face. “Help? From who?”
I hesitate, my heart thudding in my chest. This is it. The moment I’ve dreaded and hoped for all at once. Taking a deep breath, I meet his gaze and say, “I’m married, Dad.”
His eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks utterly bewildered. “Married?”
“Yes.”
“To who?”
“His name is Sebastian,” I say softly. “He’s… everything, Dad. He’s the reason I could stay strong while you were gone.”
Dad leans back against his pillows, his expression shifting between surprise and curiosity. “You’re married. I don’t even know what to say.”
I laugh shakily, wiping my tears. “I didn’t plan it, I promise. It just… happened. But he’s good to me. He’s good for me.”
He studies me closely, his eyes searching mine. “And you’re happy?”
“Yes,” I say firmly, no hesitation in my voice. “I’m happy.”
For a long moment, he’s silent, his gaze distant. Then he looks back at me and smiles.
“Well, I’ll have to meet this Sebastian of yours. Anyone who can make my Sasha happy must be something special.”
“He is,” I whisper, my heart swelling with gratitude.
Dad reaches for my hand, squeezing it lightly. “Thank you for staying strong for me, sweetheart. I know it hasn’t been easy.”
I shake my head, fresh tears slipping down my cheeks. “I would’ve waited forever, Dad. I’m just so glad you’re back.”
He pulls me into another hug, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, I let myself breathe.
The rest of the day feels surreal. Nurses come and go, checking his vitals and giving him updates.
Dad listens intently, asking questions in his soft, steady voice. It’s like he’s trying to catch up on everything he’s missed, and I do my best to fill in the gaps.
“Work’s been fine,” I tell him, smiling faintly. “Stressful, but manageable.”
“And the house?”
“Still standing,” I tease, earning a small chuckle from him.
But every conversation eventually circles back to one topic: Sebastian.
“Tell me about him,” Dad says as we sit together, the afternoon light streaming through the window.
“This husband of yours.”
I hesitate, my mind racing with memories. How do I even begin to describe Sebastian? The man who’s turned my world upside down in the best and most infuriating ways?
“He’s… complicated,” I say finally, a small smile tugging at my lips.
Dad raises an eyebrow. “Complicated how?”
“He’s strong, stubborn, and protective,” I admit.
“Sometimes too protective. But he’s also kind and thoughtful, even when he doesn’t realise it. He has this way of making me feel like I’m the only person in the world.”
Dad watches me closely, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And he treats you well?”
“Better than I deserve,” I say softly. “He’s not perfect, but neither am I. We’re figuring it out together.”
For a moment, Dad doesn’t say anything. Then he smiles, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”
“You have no idea,” I mutter, laughing.
But as the day stretches on, I can’t help but notice the fatigue creeping into Dad’s features. His eyelids grow heavy, and his responses become slower.
“You should rest,” I tell him gently, adjusting his blankets.
He shakes his head stubbornly. “Not yet. I just got you back.”
“And I’m not going anywhere,” I promise, squeezing his hand.
He sighs, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fine. But don’t leave while I’m asleep.”
“I won’t,” I whisper.
As I sit by his bedside, watching him drift off, I feel a deep sense of peace settle over me. For the first time in months, things feel right.
My father is awake. He’s here. And somehow, against all odds, I’ve made it through.
And I know Sebastian would say the same.