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,

as I closed my eyes, I had to think of the things ahead and how everything was going to work out. Luke being there to hold me tight, and Janice supporting the

savor each moment.

ONE MONTH LATER

each step echoing the cacophony

heavy with a burden I could barely carry. The sterile smell permeated the air, a constant reminder of the stark reality that awaited me behind those white doors. My beloved lay there, fragile and

up to machines that whispered

dagger to my soul. His once vibrant eyes dulled, mirroring the agony I felt within. I reached out to hold his hand, the touch so familiar yet foreign, as if he were slipping away with each passing moment. The beeping of the machines was

led to endless hours of waiting and hopelessness The 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 powerlessness

a beacon in the darkness a flicker of light that guided me through the long and torturous nights: 1 whispered words of encouragement and promises of better days to come, knowing deep down that I was

and leaves you gasping for breath in a world that suddenly seems devoid of color and joy. The quiet hum of machines replaced

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

of darkness that seemed to

sit by his bedside, holding his hand and watching the rise and fall of his

a little longer. The tears that fell were a

raw and consuming that at times I felt it would swallow me whole.

1 would tell him of the dreams we had woven together and the plans we had made, hoping that somewhere in the recesses of his unconscious mind, he would hear me

seemed like miracles in the making I knew for a fact that we would go through it all, clinging to each other–two souls bound by a love that had weathered the storm and emerged

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

a bond that would carry us through the darkest of

brightest of days

feeling, being optimistic, that any day soon we would walk hand in hand into the

knew that our love was a force to be reckoned with,

uncertainty and pain