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Yalda lingered in the corridor just outside Alexander’s hospital room, her hand hovering uncertainly near the door handle. The hallway lights were dim, casting soft shadows across the pale walls. Nurses and doctors passed behind her, their steps brisk and purposeful, but to her, time moved slowly and unbearably heavy.
She’d spent what felt like forever trying to summon the courage to enter. Her heart beat a frantic rhythm against her ribs, her chest a battleground of guilt, worry, and something far more fragile: hope.
When she finally pushed the door open, it was with the gentlest motion, as though any sudden sound might shatter the delicate balance of the moment. Alexander was sitting up now, pale but conscious, his body propped by pillows and hooked up to machines that blinked and beeped steadily. His eyes were exhausted but still as striking, still as penetrating, still as intimidating.
He didn’t speak. He just watched her. Yalda stood there, framed by the doorway, trying not to crumble under the weight of his gaze. She wants sure what she had expected , but she hadn't a strained and unreadable expression. When he finally looked away and shook his head slowly, her heart broke a little more.
"Yalda," he said, his voice hoarse, almost gravelly from disuse. "You shouldn’t have come."
Her lips parted, words stumbling at the edge of release. But he cut her off gently with a raised hand.
"Thank you for coming. But… I need you to leave."
The gentleness in his voice didn’t dull the sting of his words. It felt like rejection all over again, just like the first time he pulled away from her, emotionally and then physically. But this time, he looked so weak, so fragile, that the anger and bitterness that had sustained her through his absence dissolved, replaced by something deeper, something tender and raw.
Still, she refused to let his words push her away. She shook her head as she stepped into the room, letting the door close quietly behind her. She walked slowly toward his bed, each step deliberate, as if reclaiming her right to be there.
"I’m not leaving," she said calmly, though her voice wavered slightly at the end. "I didn’t come this far just to turn around."
Alexander’s brows furrowed as he looked up at her. His jaw clenched. He looked exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and she could tell this wasn’t easy for him either.
"Yalda… you don’t understand," he began.
"I do," she interrupted. Then she shook her head. "Or maybe I don't, but I'm not leaving. I don't care if you want me to leave, I don't care about what you want."
He turned his face slightly away from her, blinking several times as he tried to calm himself perhaps.
She stepped closer until she was standing beside his bed. Then, gently, she reached out and touched his hand. He flinched at first, but didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers curled around hers, slowly, like a man remembering how to feel.
"You don’t get to push me away," she said, her voice low and steady. "Not this time. Not when you're like this."
He turned his head, looked up at her with wet eyes.
"You’re with someone else now. I know that, and I want you to be happy." He said. "It's all I've ever wanted for you, can you not see that?"
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she shook her head. She couldn't see anything, she couldn't see how he wanted her to be happy by pushing her away.
"I can't." She replied amidst sobs. "I can't see anything."
He blew out a breath, he was exasperated, torn, and he was hurting just as much as she was.
"I saw this coming; I knew it would come to this, my health." He told her. "You deserve more than this, you deserve to be with someone who truly cares about you, someone you can spend a long time with."
She shook her head once more. She couldn't even bring herself to say anything.
"Yalda, my methods were....cruel. I know that, but I just wanted you to be happy away from me. You deserve so much more than I can give you." He said. "You shouldn't be here."
"Alexander...."
"I need you to leave and never look back, Yalda." He said cutting her short.
Bug she wasn't going to listen to him now.
"Stop pretending like I’m not allowed to care. Stop pretending like we never meant anything to each other. I’m here. You’re sick. And I still care." She told him. "I... I'm not going anywhere."
The tension in his chest finally collapsed. He reached out with both arms and pulled her into him. The embrace was sudden and imperfect; tangled with tubes and the stiffness of the hospital bed, but it was real. Warm and familiar.
Yalda sank into it without hesitation.
She curled into him, her arms winding around him, her head pressed to his chest where she could hear the slow, struggling beat of his heart. It wasn’t the same strong rhythm she remembered from the nights he’d held her in silence, but it was his. And in that moment, it was all that mattered.
She cried. She cried harder than she had in weeks, maybe months. It wasn’t the sharp, messy cry of heartbreak. It was the quiet, aching release of someone who had carried too much for too long. She sobbed softly into his chest while his arms held her, weak but steady.
"I missed you," she whispered into the fabric of his hospital gown. "Even when I didn’t want to."
"I missed you too," he admitted, his voice rough against her ear. "I can't begin to explain how much."
They stayed like that for a long time, neither one saying anything more. There was too much to unpack, too much pain and history and love buried beneath the surface. But for now, it was enough. His touch was enough. The smell of him, even under hospital antiseptic, was enough. It reminded her of home.
Eventually, she pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him. Her cheeks were wet, eyes rimmed in red.
"You’re not going to get rid of me that easily," she said, attempting a wobbly smile. She wished she had been this headstrong from the beginning, he wouldn't have been able to get rid of her in the first place.
He didn’t smile back, but his expression softened.
"Foolish girl."
She blinked and yet another stream of tears streaked down her cheeks as she stared into his eyes. He let out a resigned breath before reaching out to caress her tears away.
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