Chapter 109

Chapter 109
Neema didn’t know what she’d expected when the nurse finally waved her through, but it wasn’t this.

Quinton lay half-reclined in the hospital bed, one arm hooked to monitors, the other thrown irritably over his eyes as though the world had personally offended him. The room smelled like antiseptic and warm plastic, the steady beep of a heart monitor cutting through the quiet. He looked… fine. Too fine. Alive in a way that made her knees threaten to buckle with relief.

“Hey,” she breathed.

He lowered his arm immediately, eyes locking on her like he’d been holding his breath since they took him away. “There you are.”

Her chest tightened. She crossed the room as fast as her injuries allowed, dragging the IV stand with her until she reached his bedside. Up close, she saw it, the tight line of his mouth, the way his jaw worked like he was chewing on words he didn’t want to say.

“I scared you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Neema swallowed. “You collapsed on the hospital floor,” she said. “I think ‘scared’ is underselling it.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face, then vanished just as fast. He looked away, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah. Not exactly my best look.”

That’s when she noticed it. Not fear. Not pain. Embarrassment. It hit her harder than the crash had.

“Quinton…” She eased herself into the chair beside his bed, ribs protesting. “You passed out. You didn’t… Fail a test.”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me.”

He hesitated, fingers tightening in the blanket. “People don’t want leaders who faint. They don’t trust men who crumble under stress. They want solid. Unshakable. Not…” He gestured vaguely at himself. “This.”

Neema stared at him, really stared. This man, who had stood between her and danger without thinking. Who carried the weight of the world like it was his job. Who terrified everyone else simply by walking into a room.

“This?” she said softly. “This is you being human.”

He shook his head. “If the world knew-”

She leaned forward, voice firmer. “I don’t care about the world.”

That made him look at her.

“Since when does their opinion matter more than mine?” she asked.

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. The monitor beeped steadily, like it was waiting for him to catch up.

Slowly, something shifted in his expression. The tension drained from his shoulders a fraction at a time.

“It doesn’t,” he admitted.

Neema exhaled, relief washing through her. Then guilt rushed in right after it.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly. “For all of this. For the stress. The danger. I keep pulling you into chaos.”

He frowned. “No. Don’t do that.”

“I almost died today,” she whispered. “And you collapsed because of it.”

“I collapsed because I thought I was losing you,” he said sharply. “That’s not your fault.”

She looked at him, eyes burning. “I never wanted to be the thing that hurts you.”

“You’re not,” he said, without hesitation. “You’re the thing that makes it bearable.”

The words lodged in her chest, knocking something loose. Her pulse picked up, thoughts racing back to metal crunching, glass shattering, the sound of a gunshot. To the moment she thought she wouldn’t make it to the terrifying clarity that followed.

Life is short. Too short for fear.

Before she could overthink it, the words spilled out of her. “I want to marry you.”

The room went dead quiet.

Quinton blinked. Once. Twice. “You… What?”

Neema’s heart slammed against her ribs, but she didn’t take it back. “I want to marry you.”

He stared at her as though she’d just spoken another language. “Is this because I fainted?” he asked carefully. “Because if this is pity or some kind of-”

“No,” she cut in. “God, no.”

“Because I don’t want you feeling obligated.”

“I’m not,” she said fiercely. “I’m choosing you.”

He searched her face, doubt flickering. “Then why now?”

She swallowed, voice softer. “Because today, my life flashed before my eyes. And every version of the future that didn’t have you in it felt wrong.”

His breath hitched.

“I don’t want someday,” she continued. “I don’t want ‘when things calm down.’ I want you. Always. Stress, fainting, mess, and all.”

For a long moment, he didn’t speak. Then he reached for her hand, careful of the IV, lacing his fingers through hers like he needed the contact to stay upright.

“You’re serious,” he said.

“Yes.”

A slow, stunned smile spread across his face, the kind that looked like it cracked something open inside him. “You’re incredible,” he murmured.

She laughed shakily. “So… Is that a yes?”

He didn’t answer with words. He pulled her closer instead, one hand cradling her cheek as he kissed her, slow, deep, full of everything they’d almost lost.

When they finally parted, foreheads touching, Quinton whispered, “I’m not embarrassed anymore.”

Neema smiled through the tears. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me.”

“I’m going to do the proposal again, though,” he declared.

Neema laughed. She was okay with that. In fact, she looked forward to it, and this time, Neema knew she would say it without hesitation.