CHAPTER 112

CHAPTER 112
POV NOAH

A few days passed.

Days I practically lived inside that hospital.

Time completely lost its meaning for me. Morning, afternoon, night… everything blurred into a repetitive cycle of waiting, worry, and small moments of relief.

I didn’t leave Isabela’s side.

Not for a second.

Even when I was forced to leave because of visiting hours, I always found a way back in. I waited for the movement to slow down, watched the nurses’ routines, memorized schedules… and went in again.

I stayed hidden.

I slept in that hard, uncomfortable chair that felt like it had been designed to torture any human being.

Or…

In the bed beside her.

When she insisted.

When she practically forced me.

And despite everything…

They were strangely peaceful days.

Quiet.

Almost as if the world outside had paused for a moment.

Isis showed up every day.

Every single day.

And that… meant a lot.

At first, it was strange.

Tense.

Heavy.

She avoided looking at me.

Kept her distance.

Spoke only to her mother.

And I… I didn’t really know how to act either.

Because deep down, I understood.

She had been through a lot.

Too many revelations in too little time.

Truths that changed everything.

But little by little…

Things started to shift.

A glance.

A nod.

A “good morning.”

A “how did she sleep?”

Simple.

Short.

But full of intention.

Of effort.

Of regret.

And it showed.

In the way she held her mother’s hand a little longer.

In the way she avoided difficult topics.

In the care.

In the quiet guilt.

And that… made me respect that girl even more.

Daniel…

Daniel didn’t show up again.

Not once.

And that bothered me.

A lot.

Because I didn’t know that man well.

But what little I knew…

Was more than enough.

Daniel wasn’t the type to back down.

Not the type to give up.

And definitely not the type to accept losing.

And his silence…

Was dangerous.

The kind of silence that comes before something bad.

Something big.

Something calculated.

And that kept echoing in my mind.

Even in the good moments.

Even when I was there, beside her.

Especially in those moments.

Today was discharge day.

And for the first time in days…

I let myself breathe a little easier.

Isabela was happy.

You could see it in the light in her eyes.

In her smile.

In the way she looked at everything around her, as if she were rediscovering the world.

And I…

I was too.

I held the bags while the nurse pushed her wheelchair toward the hospital exit.

The sound of the wheels echoed through the hallway.

White lights.

The smell of antiseptic.

But this time…

It didn’t feel suffocating.

It felt like… an ending.

A beginning.

Isis walked beside her, talking.

“When we get home, I already fixed up your room, Mom…”

Isabela turned to her, surprised.

“You didn’t have to, sweetheart…”

Isis gave a small smile.

Shy.

But sincere.

“I did… I have to make up for things a little…”

Isabela squeezed her hand.

And I watched.

In silence.

My chest warmed in a way I didn’t expect.

That…

Was everything I wanted.

The two of them okay.

Together.

We reached the parking lot.

The sound of the street rushed in as soon as we stepped outside.

Fresh air.

Life happening.

I opened the trunk and put the bags in.

Closed it.

And walked over to her.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

I helped Isabela stand carefully.

She rested her hand on my arm.

A light touch.

Fragile.

But trusting.

I opened the passenger door.

Helped her settle in.

Slowly.

Carefully.

As if any wrong movement could break her.

Isis got into the back seat.

I closed the door.

Walked around.

Got in.

Started the engine.

And we drove off.

The ride to her house was calm.

Quiet, but not uncomfortable.

Isis talked to her mother about simple things.

The room.

The sheets.

The flowers she had arranged.

The medication she had organized.

Small details.

But full of care.

And I just listened.

Feeling, for the first time in days…

Something inside me relaxes.

When we arrived, I parked the car.

Got out.

Grabbed the bags.

Isis opened the front door.

“You can leave them in her room,” she said, pointing.

I nodded.

Carried everything inside.

Set it down.

And came back.

I opened the car door.

“I can walk, Noah…” Isabela said.

I shook my head.

“The doctor said rest for a month.”

She sighed.

“I can…”

I didn’t respond.

I just…

Picked her up.

She widened her eyes.

“Noah…”

“Stay still.”

My voice came out low.

Firm.

But gentle.

She ended up smiling.

That smile…

The one that always undid me.

I closed the car door with my foot.

And walked toward the house.

Feeling her light body against mine.

Her arms around my neck.

Her breath is close to mine.

I went up the stairs carefully.

Every step was measured.

I entered the bedroom.

And laid her down on the bed.

Gently.

As if she were something precious.

Because to me…

She was.

We looked at each other for a few seconds.

In silence.

No rush.

No need for words.

I sat beside her.

Ran my hand through her hair, moving a few strands away from her face.

“I’m so happy you’re okay…” I said softly. “And that you’re home.”

She smiled.

“Me too.”

I let out a light laugh.

“At least I won’t have to sleep in that horrible chair anymore…”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Liar.”

I smiled.

“Liar?”

“I always asked you to sleep with me… and you did.”

I shrugged.

“Only because you forced me.”

She laughed.

Softly.

And that sound…

Seemed to calm everything.

But then…

The silence returned.

And this time…

It was different.

Heavier.

More serious.

I took a deep breath.

Ran a hand over the back of my neck.

“Now that you’re home… I’m going to fix all of this.”

She frowned.

“How do you plan to do that?”

I hesitated for a second.

But I had already decided.

“Since that day… several networks have been calling me.”

She tensed immediately.

“Noah…”

I took her hand.

“I’m going to give a press conference.”

Silence fell.

Heavy.

“I’m going to tell the truth… from the beginning.”

She looked at me, worried.

“That could make things worse…”

I shook my head.

“It won’t.”

I squeezed her hand gently.

“I’m not going to let people talk about you like that…”

My voice grew firmer.

Heavier.

“Call you things you’re not.”

Her eyes filled with emotion.

“I’m not going to let them stain your honor.”

The room fell silent.

But it wasn’t empty.

It was filled.

With promise.

With a decision.

With consequence.

“Noah…” she whispered.

I leaned closer.

Without breaking eye contact.

“I’m going to fix this.”

And in that moment…

I truly believed it.

I was certain I would fix the mess my world had made of hers.