I sat beside Amelia's bed in silence, the sterile scent of healing magic lingering in the air.
She hadn't moved for days. Her face was pale, her body still. But she was alive. Barely.
I reached for her hand.
It was rough, calloused. Not the hand of a princess pampered in a palace—but of a warrior who fought on the front lines. A hand that once gripped a sword to protect me.
"Amelia…"
I squeezed her hand gently, the weight of everything sinking in.
"Thank you. From the bottom of my heart…"
"If it wasn't for you—if you hadn't shielded me from Xir's attack—I'd be dead."
I bowed my head and let my forehead rest against her knuckles.
"…You gave everything for me… and I don't even know how to repay that."
Tears welled in my eyes.
"I want to see you smile again. I want to hear your terrible jokes, your awkward flirting… I want you back, Amelia."
I brushed a hand across her cheek. She didn't react.
I sat there quietly, conflicted.
