_Amelie’s POV_The world didn’t rush back to me. It arrived in fragments.Small things, mostly.The weight of the blanket on my chest. The distant ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway. The hum of the monitor beside my bed, steady and reassuring now.My strength didn’t come back all at once either. It crawled its way into me, inch by inch, like light trickling through closed shutters. Every hour felt like a battle. Lifting my head. Holding a spoon. Sitting upright without blacking out.But they were always there.Luca brought me water before I even asked. Matteo charted my vitals and murmured that my pupils were reacting faster today. Nico was pacing behind him like a caged animal, snapping at anyone who suggested I should rest “a little more.”I didn’t mind the exhaustion. I minded the quiet.Because the house was never really quiet.Someone was always near. A voice. A step. A breath. And sometimes—when I was half-asleep—I caught the edges of whispered arguments outside
Third Person POVThe silence after her whisper was so fragile it felt like the entire room held its breath with her.“I think I love you.”The words hung in the air like smoke—impossible to hold, impossible to ignore. She hadn’t even said it to one of them. She hadn’t chosen. She just… offered it, soft and broken and half-alive, like a flame flickering in a windstorm.And they didn't know who was supposed to take it. Then her eyes fluttered closed.The machines kept their rhythm. Gentle beeps. Steady pulse. The rise and fall of her chest.She was asleep again.Luca didn’t move. His hand was still tangled with hers, thumb brushing over the delicate bones of her wrist like he was afraid she’d vanish again.Nico leaned back in the chair and blew out a slow, quiet breath. “Did she really just say—?”“Yeah,” Matteo said, voice hoarse. “She did.”They couldn't believe it, but it was there. The weight of it pressed against the three of them like gravity had shifted. Something about those w
_Amelie’s POV_Darkness used to feel like safety. When I was younger and scared, I’d hide under my blanket and pretend the dark made me invisible. I always felt better after that.But this… this wasn’t that. This darkness was deep, endless, and heavy. It pressed on me from all sides like water trying to crush me from the outside in.And it definitely wasn't safe. I was continuously trying to fight through cause it felt like letting go would be a big mistake. So I fought so I won't sink. I floated in it for what felt like forever. Sometimes I heard things—voices that echoed like they were underwater. Familiar ones. Luca’s voice—rough, trembling. Nico’s sharper, edged with frustration. Matteo’s low and steady, always trying to reason. I clung to them when I could. Most of the time, they slipped right through me like I wasn’t even here.But something had changed.The dark was… thinner now. Lighter. Something pulsed at the edges of it. Like a light behind a closed door. Something warm
_Author’s POV_The second antidote was ready. Or at least, as ready as desperation would allow this second time. The lab smelled like antiseptic, melted rubber, and exhaustion. Matteo hadn’t slept in nearly two days. Nico’s eyes were red from lack of sleep and the chemical fumes that clung to everything. Luca hadn’t left Amelie’s side since the last attempt failed.The first formula had nearly killed her.She’d flatlined for seven terrifying seconds. Her body had gone ice-cold and still, as if it had finally given up the fight. It had taken every bit of strength Matteo had not to fall apart while watching the monitors scream. Only sheer force of will had kept him from shattering every beaker in the room.Now they were trying again.They could have gotten a lab to do all these, but you never know who plays for Santiago or not.Nico stood at the edge of the steel table, arms folded across his chest. “I’ve recalibrated the stabilizer compound. Less neuroshock, more metabolic pacing.”Ma
_Author’s POV_The lab was silent except for the quiet hum of machines and the occasional shuffle of footsteps. It was Nico’s domain—cold, precise, meticulous. Vials lined the steel tables in perfect rows, and three screens glowed with live data from Amelie’s vitals, each one monitored in real time. Every beep and flicker held meaning. Every dip, every spike, threatened catastrophe.It was nearly dawn when the antidote was ready.Nico didn’t speak as he capped the syringe. His gloves trembled slightly—not because he was unsure of the formula, but because this wasn’t a compound. This wasn’t theory. This was Amelie.And he didn't want to mess it up.Behind him, Matteo stood rigid near the sink, arms crossed tight over his chest. His gaze hadn’t left the glass vial since it had been filled.Luca paced at the door, looking like he wanted to punch something, or maybe someone. The silence between them was heavy, even after their fight the night before, even after they’d finally come to term
_Author’s POV_The room fell into stunned silence after Amelie fell back unconscious.It had taken Luca a while to get it all into his head. He had been leaning over her, forehead nearly pressed to hers, whispering apologies into her skin for hours. But that one sentence knocked the breath out of his lungs. His hand trembled where it cradled hers.“She’s still awake?” Matteo’s voice cracked across the space, somewhere between hope and disbelief.Hope that maybe she had stayed awake longer this time. Hope that maybe she didn't leave them once again. But he knew not to hope.“Just for a second,” Nico said, his voice sharper, but not unkind. He had seen it too—her lashes fluttering, her lips moving. “She’s not lucid. She’s barely staying conscious. But it’s something.”“She’s fighting,” Matteo murmured, stepping closer to the bed.Luca didn’t speak. He looked like someone who had just watched the dead breathe.“She forgave me,” he whispered, almost like he couldn’t believe it. Then, aga