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Then she tensed. She smelled him.

“Noah.”

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but he heard everything in it. Relief. Anger. Fear.

“Yes, Rae. It’s me.” He stepped closer, his voice low, careful. He didn’t want to scare her.

She let out a sharp breath. “I said I didn’t want to see anyone.” The words wobbled at the edges, trying to sound firm but failing. “Not that it matters. I can’t see anyway.”

Noah clenched his jaw against the ache in his chest. He could handle a lot—interrogations, threats, explosions—but this? Seeing her like this, hearing the way she was crumbling beneath it all—this was unbearable.

He pulled a chair up beside her bed, his presence solid, unshakable. “Too bad,” he said softly, settling in. “I’m not leaving you. I don’t care if you can see or not. I’m staying.”

Her breath hitched, her lips pressing together, but it wasn’t enough to stop the single tear that slipped silently down her cheek. “I’m so scared, Noah.” Her voice cracked on his name, and something inside him broke.

“I know.” He leaned forward, hands clasped together, his body brimming with unwavering determination. “You don’t have to be brave right now. You don’t have to hold it together. I’m not leaving, Rae. Not now, not ever.”

She hesitated, her breathing unsteady, and then—slowly—she lifted her good hand, fingers searching.

Noah caught it before she could reach too far, wrapping his fingers firmly around hers. “I’m here,” he whispered, leaning in just above her. “I’m here, Rae.”

Tears slid freely down her cheeks, and his grip on her hand tightened. He bent lower, his lips so close, he could feel the soft tremble of her breath. He kissed her. A soft, tender press of lips—no urgency, no demand—just a promise.

Her tears dampened his face, but he didn’t pull away. He just held her, letting her pain pour out, letting his touch remind her of what she already knew.

She wasn’t alone.

And she never would be.

* * *

Ruth stirred in the darkness,the hum of machines a steady presence in her ears. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled her nose once again, mixing with the faint metallic tang of the IV line taped to her arm. She couldn't tell how much time had passed—minutes, hours? It all blurred together in the blackness that had become her world. But there was one small comfort, one tether keeping her from drifting completely into despair: Noah's hand, warm and steady, intertwined with hers.

The roughness of his callused fingers against her palm steadied her. She gripped it tighter, focusing on the texture, the weight, the connection. It reminded her she wasn’t alone.

But... it was gone.

Her fingers grasped at empty air, meeting only the cool sterility of the hospital sheets. Ruth froze, her breath hitching. “Noah?” she whispered, her voice raspy and small.

No response.

Her heart pounded, each beat louder than the machines. She groped the bed, desperate to find his hand again. “Noah!” she called, louder this time, panic breaking through her voice. Her head turned instinctively toward where she thought he might be, but the void offered nothing.

“Noah!” she screamed now, the sound raw and broken. Her body trembled, and her breaths came in quick, shallow gasps. He was gone. The realization hit her like a physical blow, and her mind spiraled into a torrent of fear and confusion.

Where is he? Why would he leave me?

She fumbled for the call bell, pressing it over and over again. She couldn’t stay still. The panic was too overwhelming.

Blind to the room around her, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her bare feet touched the cold tile floor, and she shivered. Her arms reached out, searching for something—anything—familiar. There was nothing but empty space.

“Noah, please!” she sobbed, her voice cracking under the weight of her hysteria. She stumbled forward, her IV tugging painfully at her arm. She yanked at the line, desperate to free herself from the constraints of the bed. The IV tore out, and a sharp sting shot up her arm, but she didn’t care.

Her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, landing hard on her side. The impact jarred her ribs, but the physical pain was a distant echo compared to the agony tearing through her mind.

“Noah!” she screamed again, her voice hoarse and barely audible. Tears streamed down her face, hot and unrelenting.

* * *