“I’m not almost losing you again,” he continues. “I’m not waiting either, Hilary. I need you in my life. For good.”
His eyes lock onto mine.
Fierce.
Certain.
“Marry me, Sunshine. Say yes.”
The hallway outside erupts in noise.
Reporters shouting.
Camera shutters.
The media must have gotten word he’s conscious.
Security is scrambling.
It’s chaos beyond the glass.
But in here?
It’s quiet.
Just him.
Just us.
My heart feels like it’s breaking open.
“You’re an idiot,” I sob-laugh.
“Yeah, but I’m your idiot. So, is that a yes?” he demands, stubborn even now.
I nod.
“Yes.”
He exhales like he’s been holding that breath since the plane dropped.
“Yeah?” he presses.
“Yeah,” I repeat. “Yes, I’ll marry you. I love you. I don’t care about the cameras. I don’t care about the headlines. I just— I love you.”
The nurse gasps softly.
Someone outside yells his name.
Flashbulbs flicker through the blinds.
Magic isn’t supposed to be real.
It’s supposed to be in books.
In fairytales.
But right here—in a hospital room that smells like antiseptic and fear with blood on his clothes and tears on my face—it feels real. It feels earned. It feels like something that survived a storm.