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1118 Words
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX — Winter Shadows
The snow outside had turned from soft flakes into a steady, thick blanket, covering the city in a quiet hush. The streets were almost empty, save for the occasional car tire crunching over snow. Inside Lévant Heart Institute, the corridors were quieter than usual, save for the low hum of monitors and the soft shuffle of nurses’ footsteps.
Elara lay in her bed, her frail body bundled in multiple blankets, her hand resting protectively on her stomach. Matteo adjusted the small Christmas tree beside her bed, making sure every light glowed evenly. He stood silently for a moment, taking in the soft shadows the lights cast across her face.
Her eyes were closed, but she sensed his presence. “You’re worried,” she murmured.
“I am,” he admitted, sitting carefully beside her. “Every breath, every heartbeat—it matters more now than ever. You’re… so fragile, Elara. And I can’t do enough to make the world safe for you, even though I want to.”
Her thin hand reached for his, fingers trembling slightly. “I know. But I trust you. I’ve always trusted you. Even if the world outside is dangerous, in here… in this moment… I’m safe with you.”
Matteo swallowed, the ache in his chest deepening. The Christmas lights flickered gently, casting long, warm shadows across the room. Outside, the snow muted everything, as if the world itself had paused, giving them this fragile sanctuary.
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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN — Faint Heartbeats
Days passed slowly. Matteo monitored Elara relentlessly, noting each minor change: the faint tremor in her fingers, the paleness creeping across her cheeks, the slight irregularity in her heartbeat. Each observation brought a tightness in his chest he could not release.
Elara, despite her weakness, continued to write letters to their unborn daughter. She decorated the envelopes with small sketches of snowflakes and hearts. Her fragile hands shook, but her determination never wavered.
“Why do you keep doing this?” Matteo asked one evening, holding a stack of completed letters.
She smiled faintly, a serene glow in her pale face. “Because she deserves to know me. Even if I can’t be there to see her, she should feel my love, my joy… my dreams. And she should know that the world is beautiful, even in winter.”
Matteo’s throat tightened. Each letter was a testament not only to Elara’s courage but also to the love she had risked everything to create. He gently brushed her hair back from her forehead. “She will know everything, my love. I’ll make sure of it. I promise.”
Outside, snow fell relentlessly, blanketing the streets of Paris and Spain memories alike. It was a fragile peace, one Matteo clung to with every fiber of his being.
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CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT — Frosted Windows, Fragile Hope
The approach of Christmas brought a rare quiet to the hospital. Matteo had brought snow-dusted pine branches into her room, the scent mingling with faint traces of cinnamon and oranges from previous trips.
Elara gazed at the frosted windows, her reflection mingling with the falling snow. “Do you think she’ll see snow like this?” she asked softly, her fingers resting lightly on her belly.
“She will,” Matteo said, voice steady but filled with emotion. “I’ll take her to the same streets, the same Christmas markets, the same lights you saw. She’ll know the world through your eyes.”
A soft silence passed between them, punctuated only by the hum of machines monitoring her fragile body. Each heartbeat, each shallow breath, was a reminder of both vulnerability and resilience. Matteo adjusted her pillows carefully, ensuring she was comfortable. “We’ll make it through this. Together.”
Elara nodded faintly, smiling with the faintest glimmer of joy. “Together.”
Even in the quiet hospital room, with snow outside and frost on the windows, Matteo felt a fragile warmth. Love and hope lingered in the small details: the decorated room, the letters to their daughter, and the quiet moments they shared as a family waiting to be.
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CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE — The Fragile Gift of Life
By the days after Christmas, Matteo’s vigilance intensified. Elara’s heartbeat was weaker than usual, and he noted small signs of fatigue that signaled her body was nearing its limit. Still, she insisted on talking about the future, about their daughter, and about the snow-covered streets of Paris and Spain.
One night, as he sat beside her, he held her hand tightly. “I’m scared,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve faced death many times… but not this. Not with someone I love so completely.”
Elara reached up, brushing her trembling fingers against his cheek. “Then love me anyway,” she whispered. “Love me now. Live this moment with me. And when I’m gone… give her everything I couldn’t.”
Matteo’s throat tightened, and tears fell unheeded. Outside, snow drifted lazily against the window, soft and unrelenting. The hospital room felt like a fragile bubble, suspended between life and loss, hope and inevitability.
She rested her head back against her pillows, letting herself close her eyes for a brief moment of peace. “It’s almost… perfect,” she whispered. “Even if it’s short… it’s ours.”
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CHAPTER FORTY — Christmas Morning, Winter’s Farewell
On Christmas morning, the world outside was a pristine white. Snow blanketed the city, the streets silent and shimmering under the pale sunlight. Matteo entered Elara’s room quietly, holding a small gift—a hand-knit blanket for their daughter, embroidered with tiny snowflakes, Parisian lights, and Spanish stars.
Elara smiled faintly, her eyes glittering with emotion. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “For her… for our daughter.”
Matteo knelt beside her, brushing hair from her face. “I promise I will raise her with every ounce of love you’ve left behind,” he said, voice thick. “She’ll know you. She’ll grow up surrounded by the warmth you’ve given her, even if I can’t keep you here.”
Her frail hand rested over his. “Then… live with love too,” she whispered. “Remember us. Remember everything.”
Tears filled Matteo’s eyes, the first of many that would come. Outside, snowflakes fell gently, pure and relentless. Inside, a fragile heart took its last breaths, leaving behind a gift greater than any present—life, love, and hope.
Matteo held her hand until her heartbeat faded. The room, bathed in Christmas light, smelled faintly of pine, cinnamon, and snow. Though she was gone, the love she left behind—the letters, the memories, and the child growing inside her—would endure forever.
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