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,

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 both

would savor each moment.

ONE MONTH LATER

step echoing the cacophony of emotions raging

sterile smell permeated the air, a constant reminder of the

up to machines that whispered tales

his hand, the touch so familiar yet foreign, as if he were slipping away with each passing

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

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

seeps into your bones, twists your insides, and leaves you gasping for breath in a world that suddenly seems devoid of color and joy. The quiet hum of machines replaced the laughter

drowning soul to a life raft, holding onto the hope that They would be sufficient to rescue her from the abyss. But

of darkness that seemed to stretch into

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

were a silent testament to the pain

that at times I felt it would swallow me

of the machines, I would whisper words of love and devotion, promises of a future we might never share 1 would tell him of the dreams we had woven together and the plans we had made,

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 stronger on the other side. The pain of these days and nights lingered like a scar, a reminder of

just his battle to fight, but also ours. The pain of watching him suffer had forged

was unbreakable, a bond that would carry us through the darkest of times and the

brightest of days

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

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

uncertainty and pain