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Damien kept doing what he did best. He handled things quietly, never made a big announcement about his actions, and never treated me like I owed him anything.
Whenever I asked about the financial side, he’d just say, "It’s being taken care of."
The first few times, I accepted that line, by the fifth time, I raised an eyebrow.
"What exactly does ’being taken care of’ mean?"
Damien didn’t look up from his laptop. "It means it’s being taken care of."
"That’s not an answer."
"It’s the answer you’re getting."
"You’re suspicious."
He finally glanced at me. "So are you."
"I learned from the best."
A small smile crept onto his face. "Good."
I threw a pillow at him, but he slapped it away.
I was starting to think he’d been secretly training to defend himself against my pillow attacks while I wasn’t looking.
When classes picked up again, campus felt almost unfairly normal.
Students strolled between buildings with coffee in hand, chatting and laughing with friends, venting about assignments, acting like no one’s world had been turned upside down by a hospital phone call.
I got it wasn’t their fault.
The world didn’t stop for me, even if it felt like mine had.
Still, it all felt odd.
After so many days caught between the hospital and Preston Hall, returning to class felt like stepping back into a life that wasn’t mine...where the biggest crisis was a surprise quiz instead of a liver transplant.
Maya was the first to spot me.
She found me outside a lecture hall and marched over, her face already set in that particular brand of concern that made me realize I wasn’t getting out of this talk easily.
"You look awful."
I stared back at her. "Nice to see you too."
Yet she hugged me tightly, unfazed by my complaint.
Then she pulled back and scrutinized my face like she was searching for proof of my well-being. "Are you sleeping?"
"Sometimes."
"That’s not an answer."
"It’s the only answer I have."
She sighed and Joey appeared behind her, holding two coffees up like trophies.
"Good news."
I eyed him suspiciously. "What?"
"I brought coffee."
"You called that good news."
"That is good news."
Maya snatched one of the cups from him without asking. "You’re so useless."
"I was trying."
I laughed...it was the first real laugh I’d had in days, and it surprised me how good it felt. Joey smiled as he heard it.
"See? I fixed it."
"You didn’t fix anything." Maya countered.
"I made him laugh."
"By being fucking ridiculous."
"Still counts."
Maya looked at me again, her expression softening into something gentler. "How’s your dad?"
I looked down for a moment. "Still waiting on the surgery."
"Is he doing okay?"
"He’s holding up."
She squeezed my arm. "Then you hang in there, too."
I nodded. "Thanks."
Joey eyed me for a second before saying, "And if you need anything..."
He paused, clearly reconsidering his words. "Anything that doesn’t involve money."
I laughed. "Thanks, Joey."
"I can offer emotional support."
"That’s actually terrifying."
"I figured you’d say that."
For a few moments, it almost felt normal...almost. Then Damien showed up at the end of the walkway.
He wasn’t doing anything dramatic; he was just walking toward us with his bag slung over one shoulder, his usual calm look in place, and the campus breeze somehow making his hair look good.
Yet seeing him made something inside of me settle.
Maya noticed, she glanced between him and me. Then back to him.
And then she smiled. "Oh."
I frowned, "What?"
"Nothing."
"That sounded suspiciously like something."
"It wasn’t."
Joey leaned closer to her, not even bothering to lower his voice. "She does that when she’s thinking something inappropriate."
"I heard that," I said.
"You were meant to."
Damien joined us. "Ready?"
I nodded as Maya gave him a small smile.
"You’re doing such a great job looking after Oliver, Damien. You now officially have my blessing for the marriage."
Damien glanced at me, an expression of quiet certainty on his face. "I do?"
I snorted and grabbed Damien so we could leave my crazy friends behind. As we walked away, I looked up at Damien.
"Did you just get vetted by my friends?"
"They’re your friends."
"So?"
"They’re protective of you."
I rose an eyebrow. "You sound jealous."
"I’m not."
"You totally are."
He shook his head, but I caught a hint of a smile he tried to hide, the one that always gave him away.
A few days later, we got the call...the surgery date had been confirmed.
I was sitting in the hospital cafeteria with Damien when my phone rang, cutting sharply through the low murmur of trays and chatter.
I stared at the screen for a second before answering, the doctor told me the date.
I silently repeated it in my head, letting it sink in like something I needed to commit to memory.
Then I looked at Damien. "It’s happening."
His expression softened. "When?"
I told him, for a moment, we were both silent and I should’ve been terrified.
And I was, but underneath that fear was something else...hope.
The kind that made my chest ache because I was almost scared to touch it, like acknowledging it too directly might scare it away.
I leaned back in my chair. "My dad is going to be okay, right?"
Damien reached across the table and took my hand. "We’ll be there with him."
I squeezed his fingers. "Yeah."
My father would have his surgery. He would wake up afterward. He would complain about the hospital food. He would embarrass me with increasingly absurd questions for Damien about our relationship.
He would get better...he had to.
Because I wasn’t ready for a world without him.
And for the first time since that phone call on the island, I allowed myself to picture a future without immediately imagining all the things that could go south.
That night, Damien and I lay together in bed, the room dark except for a faint glow seeping through the curtains.
I rested against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.