Chapter 147: Chapter 147
"Happy birthday, Celeste."
Amara’s voice broke in the quiet hospital room. Her voice was softer than the faint mechanical beeps, and gentler than the sterile hum of the vents. She squeezed Celeste’s hands, small against her own, and let the silence sit a moment before filling it again.
"I love you," she whispered, her lips trembling as she sniffed. "You’re important. I know the world would keep spinning on its axis without you, because it’s cruel like that. It doesn’t stop for anyone. But think of all the sunrises you’ll miss if you don’t come back."
Her throat tightened. She leaned closer, her forehead nearly brushing the blanket. She allowed her tears to spill freely now.
"Think of all the tears you never get to shed. Think of all the tulip flowers you’ll miss." Her gaze flicked across the nightstand where the petals had wilted, browning at the edges, and their once-bright heads drooping toward the floor. "And, oh God, think of all the frozen chicken you won’t get to stupidly defrost in the sink at three in the morning like you usually do."
A watery laugh tumbled out of her chest. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and shook her head at herself.
"I know," she muttered, hiccuping a little. "I know it’s silly. But it’s us. You. Me. Stupid frozen chicken. If you’re not here... who am I supposed to roll my eyes at when you start singing to it?"
The laugh dissolved into another sob, quiet, and restrained, but full. Amara pressed both hands around Celeste’s one, her fingers trembling.
"I know that right now there’s too much darkness where you’re at. Too much for you to see anything else. But this isn’t about seeing anything else. It’s about holding on." She leaned down, pressing her lips to Celeste’s knuckles. "Give yourself one more day, Celeste. Just one. I can keep waiting for tomorrow if you stay alive."
The room fell into silence again. The only answer that came was from the steady beep of the monitor, stubborn and unchanging.
Amara closed her eyes, whispering into the stillness. "Stay alive, Celeste."
She didn’t hear the door open at first. It wasn’t until a shift of air brushed her shoulder that she lifted her head, startled.
Dominic stood in the doorway, his tall frame outlined by the corridor’s muted light. He didn’t speak. He didn’t even look at Amara, or any other thing in the room. His eyes went straight to Celeste, as though the rest of the world wasn’t in the room at all.
Then, slowly, he stepped inside.
Amara shifted to the side, giving him room. She watched in silence as he moved toward the nightstand. His hand hovered over the vase of tulips she had brought.
They needed changing, so he changed them. He didn’t just pick them up, he lifted them carefully, as though even their dying form deserved tenderness.
And then, without a word, he reached into the bag he carried in, and pulled out a new bundle. They were fresh tulips, their petals bright, with the kind of color that shouldn’t exist in a place like this.
Amara froze. She hadn’t expected him to... to do it like this. So gently. So... intimately. He trimmed the stems with a small knife, set them in clean water, and replaced the vase at Celeste’s bedside. Then, with careful precision, he straightened one flower that had leaned a fraction to the left.
Amara found herself watching his hands, struck by how tenderly they moved, and how different this was from the man whose name carried weight and shadows everywhere else.
When he was done, he lingered. His hand rested on the glass rim for a moment, and his gaze remained heavy on Celeste.
Amara swallowed. Her voice broke but when it came, it was soft. "What should I do for you?"
Dominic didn’t move, he didn’t even look away from Celeste.
"I mean it," she said. "How can I help you right now?"
Silence stretched between the..
Amara didn’t push, though the quiet felt thick, and almost unbearable, she waited. She studied his profile, and the taut line of his jaw, the muscle ticking there, and the faint shadow of exhaustion beneath his eyes.
He looked like a man carved from stone, except for the small betrayals: the slight tightening of his throat, and the way his thumb brushed once against the vase before he pulled his hand back.
Finally, he exhaled, slow.
"You can..." His voice was low, and almost foreign to his own mouth. Then he paused, reconsidered, and his lips tugged into something not quite a smile. "You can stop bringing too much chicken here. It always ends up in the hospital sink."
For a beat, Amara blinked at him. Then she snorted, an ungraceful, surprised laugh that made her cover her face with one hand.
"No, you didn’t just—" She laughed again, her shoulders shaking.
Dominic let out the faintest chuckle himself. It was not a full laugh, but the sound was real, undeniable. And it startled her.
"You chuckled?" she said, eyes wide. "I thought you didn’t know how."
His brows lifted in mock offense. "I do. I just don’t waste it."
That earned another laugh from Amara. Something warm cracked through the heavy air, and for a moment, the sterile room felt alive again.
Their conversation drifted after that, soft at first, then easier. They talked about tulips, about how Celeste had once claimed yellow flowers were secretly vain because they leaned toward sunlight more than others.
Amara, caught in the rhythm of speaking, let something slip.
"She used to..." she started, then froze, her cheeks coloring.
Dominic tilted his head. "She used to what?"
"Nothing," Amara said quickly, waving her hand.
His eyes sharpened. He leaned in slightly. "No, what don’t I know? Spill it."
Amara groaned, covering her face with both hands. "It’s ridiculous."
"I want ridiculous." His tone was serious, but his brows lifted, almost teasing. "Everything about her matters."
Amara peeked through her fingers, then sighed. "Okay, but you can’t hold it against her."
"I won’t," he said without hesitation.
Amara hesitated, then her lips curved into a sheepish grin. "Alright. Second year in college... she spent an entire week trying to teach the dorm’s goldfish how to ’high-five’ her through the glass. I swear, every morning she’d tap her palm on the tank and whisper encouragements, like she was coaching a toddler. When the fish finally swam in the same direction as her hand, she jumped up and screamed that it worked."
She covered her face, laughing softly. "She even made me clap for it. Like, full-on applause for a fish. She doesn’t even want to remember it now, but God, she was so proud." she smiled.
Dominic blinked at her, stunned for a heartbeat. Then, to Amara’s utter shock, he laughed. A deep, low sound shook out of him before he could stop it.
The sound startled her into laughing too, and soon they were both chuckling, unable to stop.
Dominic shook his head, still smiling faintly, his eyes soft on Celeste. "Of course she did."