The Love From Vengeance

341: HOLDING ON

ARIEL’S POV

Janice furrowed her brows, concern etched across her features. “Mom, you shouldn’t be pushing yourself like this. You’re hurt.”

“I know, sweetheart,” I sighed, wincing as I adjusted myself on the bed. “But I had to make sure your dad

was okay.”

“But the doctors are taking care of him, right?”

“Yes, they are.” I nodded, reaching out to gently stroke her hair. “But I just needed to see him for myself, you know?”

Janice nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. “I get it, Mom. But please, promise me you’ll take it easy. You need to focus on getting better too.”

“I promise,” I replied, offering her a weak smile. “Now, how about we both try to get some rest? We could

use it.”

Janice nodded, leaning against my shoulder. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

As we settled into the quiet room, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over me. Together, we would confront numerous challenges, yet our unwavering unity would be the only thing that mattered.

L

Storms could come and chaos might unfold, but with my blood by my side, those terrors would be so

bootless,

everything was going to work out. Luke being there to hold me tight, and Janice supporting

would savor

ONE MONTH LATER

echoing

barely carry. The sterile smell permeated the air, a constant reminder of the stark reality that awaited me

machines that whispered tales of his suffering

hand, the touch so familiar yet foreign, as if he were slipping away with each passing moment. The beeping of the machines was a cruel symphony, and the rhythm of his heartbeat

doctors came and went, their faces a mask of professionalism that did little to assuage my growing terror. Words like “critical–condition” and “uncertain prognosis hung in the air like a curse, a constant reminder of the fragility of life and the

of pain and illness. His resilience was a beacon in the darkness a flicker of light that guided me through the long and torturous nights: 1 whispered words of

insides, and leaves you gasping for breath in a world that suddenly seems devoid of color and joy. The

of life. I clung to those moments like a drowning soul to a life raft, holding onto the hope that They would be sufficient to rescue her from the abyss. But deep down, I knew that love alone was not always a match for

hardest, long and lonely stretches of darkness that seemed to stretch into eternity. I

bedside, holding his hand and watching the rise and fall of his chest,

that fell were a

so raw and consuming that at times I felt

promises of a future we might never share 1 would tell him of the dreams we had woven

all, clinging to each other–two souls bound by a love that had weathered the storm and emerged stronger on the other side.

s not just his battle to fight, but also ours. The pain of watching him suffer had forged

would carry us through

brightest of days

soon we would walk hand in hand into the light of

our love was a force to be reckoned with, a beacon

uncertainty and pain