The night at the hospital felt long. Marcus stayed in that chair, sometimes dozing off for a bit then waking up again, making sure I was still breathing. I myself couldn't sleep well. Every time I closed my eyes, the images of Gabriel and Rosalinda appeared alternately. At three in the morning, I heard footsteps in the hallway. Slow, careful. My door opened a little. Gabriel. He stood at the threshold, his suit no longer neat, his tie loose, his hair disheveled. His eyes were red, as if he had been crying or hadn't slept for days. He looked at me, then looked at Marcus who was asleep in the chair. I pretended to be asleep. I wanted to know what he would do. He stepped in slowly, almost silently. Stopped beside my bed. I could feel his gaze, heavy and full of something I couldn't explain. Then he whispered, very softly, almost inaudibly. "Forgive me." My breath caught. But I stayed still, my eyes shut tight. His hand reached for mine, the one without the IV, and held it gently
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