CHAPTER 117

CHAPTER 117
POV NOAH

It should have been me.

That thought wouldn’t leave my head.

It didn’t fade.

Didn’t weaken.

Didn’t give me a break.

It stayed there… repeating, hammering, echoing like a constant sound inside my mind.

It should have been me.

I was sitting in the waiting room, next to Isabela and Alex, but, in truth… I wasn’t there.

My body was.

But my mind…

My mind was still in that room.

In the sound.

In the exact moment.

In an instant, everything changed.

The gunshot.

Loud.

Violent.

Definitive.

And then…

Isis’s body is falling.

I ran a hand over my face, hard, as if I could erase it from my memory.

But it didn’t help.

The scene came back again.

And again.

And again.

The bullet was meant for me.

I knew it.

I felt it in every part of my body.

I was the one standing in front.

I was the one he wanted to hit.

I was the one he hated.

I was the one who should be on that operating table right now.

Or worse…

I was the one who could have been dead.

I swallowed hard.

My throat was dry.

Burning.

My stomach twisted.

Isis…

Isis was just a girl.

A teenager.

A daughter.

A girl still trying to understand the world.

And she took a bullet.

From her own father.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

It was so wrong.

So absurd.

So… impossible to accept.

But it had happened.

And I was alive.

And she was fighting for it.

Guilt hit me like a wave.

Heavy.

Suffocating.

“Damn…” I muttered under my breath, running a hand through my hair.

My breathing started to turn uneven.

And then…

The anger came back.

Violent.

Brutal.

Out of control.

I almost killed him.

The memory came back clearly.

The moment I lunged.

The punches.

The taste of blood.

His body on the floor.

My hand wouldn’t stop.

I wouldn’t stop.

If someone hadn’t pulled me away…

If the police had taken longer…

I would have killed Daniel.

And the most frightening part?

I didn’t know if that scared me.

Or if… a part of me thought he deserved it.

I squeezed my eyes shut again.

My jaw tightened.

He shot his own daughter.

His own daughter.

What kind of man does that?

What kind of human being crosses that line?

I looked to the side.

Isabela.

She looked… broken.

Completely.

Her eyes are red.

Swollen.

Her gaze was lost.

Her hands trembled in her lap, as if they couldn’t find rest.

She wasn’t crying out loud anymore.

But her silence…

Hurt more than any scream.

I reached out.

Took her hand.

Firmly.

As if it were the only thing I could do.

“It’s going to be okay…” I murmured.

But my voice came out low.

Almost empty.

Because inside…

I was afraid.

Very afraid.

Time…

Time wouldn’t pass.

Seconds dragged.

The clock on the wall seemed to mock us.

Each tick was too slow.

Too heavy.

No one spoke.

Alex was quiet.

Isabela is silent.

And me…

Trapped inside my own head.

Until…

The door opened.

The sound cut through the air.

The three of us stood up at the same time.

As if pulled by an invisible string.

My heart raced.

Fast.

Loud.

Uneven.

The doctor appeared.

Serious face.

Tired.

“The surgery was long…” he began.

My breath caught.

My whole body tensed.

“But it was a success.”

The world started moving again.

All at once.

Isabela brought a hand to her mouth.

The tears came instantly.

Uncontrolled.

Unfiltered.

“She’s stable…” he continued. “She’s going to recover.”

I let the air out forcefully.

As if I had been holding it for hours.

My legs weakened.

Almost gave out.

Almost.

I ran a hand over my face, trying to pull myself together.

She was alive.

That was it.

She was alive.

“Can we see her?” Isabela asked, her voice broken.

The doctor nodded.

“Yes. But she’s still under the effects of anesthesia.”

It didn’t matter.

None of that mattered.

She was alive.

We followed the doctor down the hallway.

Each step felt heavy.

Loaded.

Full of expectation.

When we entered the room…

The impact hit.

Hard.

Direct.

Isis was lying there.

Pale.

Fragile.

Surrounded by machines.

Bandages.

Wires.

Monitors are beeping steadily.

My chest tightened painfully.

It should have been me.

That thought came back.

Stronger.

Crueler.

I stopped.

Not knowing what to do.

Not knowing where to put my hands.

Not knowing whether to go closer or stay away.

Isabela didn’t hesitate.

She went straight to her.

Like a mother does.

Without thinking.

Without hesitation.

She took her daughter’s hand.

Gently.

Desperately.

“My daughter…” she cried. “My girl…”

My throat burned.

I looked away for a second.

Trying to control what I was feeling.

But I couldn’t.

A few minutes passed.

Silent.

Heavy.

Isis moved.

Slightly.

Almost imperceptible.

But enough.

Her eyes opened slowly.

Confused.

Lost.

“Mom…?”

Her voice came out weak.

Almost a whisper.

Isabela broke down.

“I’m here… I’m here…”

She squeezed her daughter’s hand tighter.

As if she would never let go again.

Isis blinked a few times.

Trying to understand where she was.

What had happened?

Then…

Her eyes found mine.

My heart tightened.

I took a step forward.

Slowly.

Carefully.

As if any wrong move could break that moment.

My voice came out low.

Hoarse.

“Why…?”

I swallowed hard.

“Why did you do that…?”

My throat closed.

Her eyes didn’t leave mine.

“It should have been me…”

Silence grew heavy.

Dense.

Almost suffocating.

She looked at me for a few seconds.

And then…

She answered.

“I’d do it again…”

My chest tightened painfully.

As if someone had clenched a fist around my heart.

She took a breath.

With difficulty.

“It’s been a long time… since I saw my mom’s eyes shine like that…”

My gaze went automatically to Isabela.

She was crying silently.

But there was something there.

Something different.

“I still feel guilty…” Isis continued. “For the horrible things I said to her…”

My throat burned.

I didn’t know what to say.

There were no words.

“I didn’t want to… lose my mom…”

Her voice broke.

Weak.

Painful.

Silence filled the room.

But it wasn’t empty.

It was full.

Of feelings.

Of truths.

Of pain.

Then…

She spoke again.

“I never want to see my father again…”

Her voice was low.

But firm.

Decided.

“I never want any contact with him.”

Isabela squeezed her hand.

Crying harder.

As if, in that moment, she was protecting herself from everything.

And everyone.

Then Isis looked at me again.

Directly.

Without avoiding it.

“I… accept your relationship…”

My heart raced.

Strong.

Surprised.

Defenseless.

“As long as…” she breathed with difficulty, “you make my mom happy…”

My throat closed completely.

The words wouldn’t come.

I just stood there.

Feeling the weight of it.

The responsibility.

The meaning.

The trust.

I nodded.

Slowly.

“I will…” my voice came out hoarse. “I promise.”

And in that moment…

It wasn’t just a promise.

It was a commitment.

A debt.

A truth.

Because deep down…

I knew.

I owed her my life.

And I would never…

Ever forget that.