10

10
Emilia’s POV.
I paced outside the operating room, my stomach twisted into anxious knots, and my hands clasped tightly together as if the sheer force of my grip could channel all my fears and hopes for Matteo’s surgery. The hours felt endless, every minute stretching painfully, as though time itself was punishing me. I had done all I could, but that was the agonizing part. I couldn’t do anything now but wait.
“Please, let him be okay,” I whispered, closing my eyes tightly, willing away the panic rising in my chest. My mind replayed every memory I had with Matteo, from his infectious laugh to his stubborn refusal to let life break him. He deserved a chance. A chance to live, to be free of this pain. I couldn’t imagine a life without him.
The hall was quiet except for the occasional footsteps of nurses and the quiet beep of machines from nearby rooms. I watched each figure passing by, hoping it was a doctor coming to give me news, but every time, they walked past me without a second glance. It was torture, this waiting.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doors of the operating room swung open, and the surgeon emerged. I froze, my heart pounding as I looked at him, searching his face for any clue.
“Miss Emilia?” he said, his voice steady, calm.
“Yes,” I managed, my voice barely a whisper. My throat was tight, and I could hardly breathe. “Is he-?”
The doctor’s face softened, and he nodded. “The surgery was successful. Matteo is stable.”
For a second, his words didn’t register. I stood there, staring at him, processing what he’d just said.
“He’s… stable?” I repeated, my voice cracking.
“Yes. He came through the surgery just fine,” the doctor reassured me. “There’s still a recovery period, of course, but things are looking good.”
The relief hit me like a tidal wave, crashing over me with such force that my legs buckled. I sank into the chair behind me, my hands flying to my face as the tears came, unstoppable and raw. I hadn’t even realized how scared I’d been, how tightly I’d been holding onto my fears, until now.
“Thank you,” I whispered, though my words were muffled by the tears. “Thank you so much.”
The doctor gave me a kind smile and patted my shoulder gently. “He’s a strong young man. With the right care and rest, he should recover well.”
I nodded, unable to form any more words as he walked away, leaving me alone with my emotions. I buried my face in my hands, letting the tears flow freely. I was overcome, drowning in relief, gratitude, and exhaustion.
When I finally composed myself, I wiped my face, took a shaky breath, and stood. Matteo would be moved to a recovery room soon, and I wanted to be there when he woke up. I needed to see his eyes open, to hear his voice, to know that he was really okay.
It wasn’t long before the nurses wheeled him into a private room, his face peaceful, his breathing steady. I pulled a chair close to his bedside and sat down, reaching out to hold his hand. His skin was warm, his pulse steady under my fingers. For the first time in days, I felt like I could finally breathe.
“Hey, Matteo,” I whispered, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me. “You made it, okay? You’re going to be alright.”
I sat there, watching him, waiting for any sign that he might wake up. His breathing was slow, his face relaxed, as if he were merely sleeping off a long day. I squeezed his hand gently, willing him to open his eyes, even if just for a moment.
The hours ticked by, and the hospital room grew quiet. Outside, the sky began to darken. I lost track of time, my entire focus consumed by the rhythmic rise and fall of Matteo’s chest, the gentle beep of the monitor beside him.
Just as I began to nod off, a soft knock came at the door, and I looked up to see two of Alaric’s men standing in the doorway, their faces expressionless, professional.
“Miss Emilia,” one of them said, his voice polite but firm. “It’s time to return to the house.”
I blinked, taken aback. “Already? But he hasn’t even woken up yet. I just… I need a little more time.”
The man’s face softened slightly, though his expression remained firm. “I understand, Miss Emilia, but Mr. Castillo’s orders were specific. We need to escort you back now.”
I sighed, my heart sinking. I knew Alaric’s rules, his boundaries. And I understood that he had a way of ensuring they were followed. But leaving Matteo felt like a betrayal. I glanced back at him, at the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. I hated the thought of leaving him, of not being there when he woke up. But I knew arguing would get me nowhere.
“Alright,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. I rose from my chair, my hand lingering on Matteo’s for just a moment longer. “But can you tell him… when he wakes up… can you tell him I’ll be back?”
One of the men gave a short nod. “We’ll pass along the message.”
I took one last look at Matteo, memorizing the lines of his face, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. “Hang in there, little brother,” I whispered. “I’ll see you soon.”
With a heavy heart, I allowed Alaric’s men to lead me from the room. The walk down the hospital corridors felt like an eternity, my feet dragging with every step. I wanted to turn back, to rush back to Matteo’s side and wait for him, but I knew that wasn’t an option. Not now.
As we reached the entrance, the cold night air hit me, and I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. The car was waiting, dark and sleek, parked right at the curb. One of the men opened the door, and I climbed in, the leather seats cold beneath me. I glanced back at the hospital as the door closed, my heart aching at the thought of leaving Matteo behind.