Chapter 67 Chapter 67

Chapter 67 Chapter 67

CASSIAN'S POV

The hospital room was too quiet.

Dominic had left. For the first time in days, he had actually left. He said he needed to take a shower. He said he needed to change his clothes. He said he would be back in an hour.

It had been three hours.

I lay in the hospital bed and stared at the ceiling. The tiles were white. They were arranged in neat rows. I had counted them. There were sixty four. I had counted them twice.

I was bored. I was lonely. I was terrified.

Terrified that he was not coming back. Terrified that he had finally realized I was not worth it. Terrified that he had finally walked away.

My heart was pounding. My hands were shaking. The machines beeped faster. I tried to breathe. I tried to calm down.

The door opened.

Dominic walked in. His hair was wet. His clothes were fresh. He looked cleaner. More put together. But his eyes were still tired. Still red. Still haunted.

He looked at me. His face relaxed. A small smile.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

"Sorry I took so long. I had to... I needed to..."

"It is okay."

He walked to the bed. Sat down in the chair beside me. His hand reached for mine. Held it.

"I thought you left," I said. The words came out smaller than I intended.

"Left?"

"I thought you finally realized I was not worth it. I thought you finally walked away."

He stared at me. His eyes were wide. His hand tightened on mine.

"Cassian. I would never leave you. Not again. Not ever."

"You left before."

"That was different."

"Was it?"

He was quiet for a moment. His thumb traced circles on my knuckles.

"I left before because I was broken," he said. "I left before because I did not know how to love you without destroying you. I left before because I was scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Scared of losing you. Scared of being enough. Scared of everything."

I looked at him. At his tired eyes. At the dark circles that would not fade. At the way his hand was shaking in mine.

"Dominic," I said.

"Yeah?"

"I am scared too."

"Of what?"

"Of losing you. Of being enough. Of everything."

He leaned forward. Pressed his forehead against mine. His breath was warm on my face.

"We are a mess," he said.

"We are a disaster."

"Two broken people trying to fix each other."

"Is it working?"

"I do not know. But I am not giving up."

He kissed me. Soft. Gentle.

I kissed him back.

\---

The next few days were strange.

Dominic was different. Softer. Quieter. He still hovered. He still watched me like I was going to disappear. But he also talked. He told me things. Little things. Things he had never told anyone.

About his mother. About the way she used to sing in the kitchen. About the way she would braid his hair when he was a child. About the way she smiled when she was happy.

About his father. About the beatings. About the years of silence. About the way he had learned to hide. To pretend. To survive.

About the accident. About the scars. About the way he had almost died. About the way he had wished he had.

I listened. I did not interrupt. I just held his hand and listened.

"You never told anyone this," I said.

"Never."

"Why me?"

He looked at me. His eyes were soft.

"Because you are the only one who ever listened."

I squeezed his hand.

"I am not going anywhere," I said.

"I know."

"I mean it, Dominic. I am not leaving you. Not again. Not ever."

"I know."

He leaned over. Kissed my forehead.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too."

\---

He started going to therapy.

I did not ask him to. He just told me one day. He was sitting in the chair beside my bed. His hands were clasped between his knees. His head was bowed.

"I am going to see someone," he said.

"See someone?"

"A therapist. I called. I made an appointment. I am going to go."

I stared at him. My heart was pounding.

"Dominic."

"I know. I know. It is not something I would have done before. But I need to. I need to fix myself. I need to be better. For you. For us."

"You do not have to do this for me."

"I know. I am doing it for me. But also for you. Because I want to be someone you can trust. Someone you can rely on. Someone you can love."

"Dominic."

"I am broken, Cassian. I have always been broken. And I do not know how to fix myself. But I am going to try. I am going to try so hard."

I reached up. Touched his face. His skin was warm. His eyes were wet.

"I am proud of you," I said.

"Really?"

"Really."

He leaned into my hand. Closed his eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Thank you for trying."

He kissed my palm. Opened his eyes.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too."

\---

The first session was hard.

He came back to the hospital looking pale. Shaken. He sat in the chair beside my bed and stared at the wall.

"Dominic," I said.

"I told her everything."

"Everything?"

"Everything. About my mother. About my father. About the promise. About you. About all of it."

"How did it feel?"

"Terrible. Like someone was tearing me open."

"But you did it."

"I did it."

I reached out. Touched his hand.

"I am proud of you," I said again.

He looked at me. His eyes were wet.

"I am not done," he said. "I am going to keep going. I am going to keep trying. I am not giving up."

"Good."

"Even when it hurts."

"Good."

"Even when I want to stop."

"Good."

He leaned forward. Pressed his forehead against mine.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For not giving up on me."

"You never gave up on me. Even when I wanted you to. Even when I pushed you away."

"That was different."

"No. It was the same. We both made mistakes. We both hurt each other. But we are both still here."

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too."

\---

The sessions continued.

He went every week. Sometimes he came back quiet. Sometimes he came back angry. Sometimes he came back crying. But he always came back.

And he always talked to me. He told me about the sessions. About the things he was learning. About the things he was unlearning.

"I am learning to forgive myself," he said one day.

"Good."

"I am learning that I am not a monster."

"You are not a monster."

"I am learning that I am allowed to be happy."

"You are allowed to be happy."

"I am learning that I deserve you."

I looked at him. His eyes were sincere. His voice was steady.

"You do deserve me," I said.

"Really?"

"Really."

He leaned over. Kissed me. Soft. Gentle.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too."

\---

The day I was discharged, he was a nervous wreck.

He packed my things. He made sure I had my medications. He made sure I had my discharge papers. He made sure I had everything I needed.

"Dominic," I said.

"What?"

"Breathe."

He stopped. Looked at me. His face was pale.

"I am fine," he said.

"You are not fine. You are panicking."

"I am not panicking."

"You are. But it is okay. I am okay. We are okay."

He took a breath. Let it out.

"Okay," he said.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

He took my hand. Helped me stand. Helped me walk to the car. Helped me get inside.

When he got in the driver's seat, he looked at me.

"Where to?" he asked.

"Home."

"Your home or my home?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

I looked at him. At his tired eyes. At the dark circles that were finally starting to fade. At the man who had done terrible things and was trying to be better.

"Take me to your home," I said.

"Are you sure?"

"I am sure."

He started the car. Drove. The city blurred past the windows.

I reached over. Took his hand. Held it on the seat between us.

"I love you," I said.

"I love you too."

We drove home. Together.