I'd finally succumbed to a restless sleep on the too-short hospital couch, the edges of my dreams blurred with anxiety and exhaustion. Then, the sudden flurry of movement, the hushed but urgent voices, jolted me awake. Doctors and nurses were swarming into Levi's room, their faces grim. Fuck. The groans started first, low and guttural, quickly escalating into ragged shouts. A nurse grabbed my arm and shoved me out into the hallway. The door swung shut, cutting off the immediate visual, but not the sound. Levi's primal cry ripped through, a sound that clawed at my insides. They did it. They actually did it. A violent tremor ran through my legs. The hallway seemed to tilt and sway.

It was making my teeth chatter. He had been right. So right to tell me not to witness it. I don't think my sanity could have withstood seeing that level of violation. The sounds alone were a torment; the sight would have shattered me completely.

That cry… it will forever be etched into my memory. My legs were shaking so badly I could barely stand. The floor felt like it's moving. I couldn't breathe. He told me not to see it. He was trying to protect me from that horror. How can he endure this? How can anyone? My mind kept conjuring images… the jolting, his body convulsing… the violation…

I can't… I just can't.

I stumbled back against the wall. My breath hitched in my throat, each inhale a shallow, painful gasp. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the lingering echoes of his scream, but it reverberated within me.

How long did it last? Minutes? An eternity? Time seemed to warp and distort. I imagined him in there, his body arching against the restraints, his muscles spasming. And all I could do was stand there, useless, a coward hiding, while the man I loved endured it alone.

The shouting had ceased. The flurry of white coats receded, the doctors and nurses disappearing as quickly as they had arrived. I didn't hesitate, stepping back inside to see him. His gaze, bloodshot and weary, found mine, and he offered a small beckon with his pointer finger. "Come here, dear," he murmured, his voice raspy but calm. "I am alright… now."

How could he say that? Silent tears began to burn tracks down my cheeks. I walked slowly towards him, my legs still shaky, and he extended his unbound hand, his fingers slightly trembling. I reached out and took it.

"Are you really… alright… what in gods' name was that, Levi?" I asked, my grip tightening on his hand as if to physically tether him to me.

"It's not as… barbaric as you might imagine, dear," he said, his voice still raspy but holding a thread of his usual steadiness. "A small, pen-like instrument… they pressed it against my skin, and a jolt of electricity… The sharpest pain has subsided for now."

"Should… should we try to go to another hospital? Somewhere they… they handle pain differently?"

He offered a weak smile. "The instrument is right there on the crash cart, dear. You can try it on yourself if you're curious, hm? See for yourself. And you know it's not about the place, Raphael. I asked for this. Because those three minutes… those one hundred and eighty seconds of agony between doses… they were becoming unbearable."

He asked for this. His choice. His body. Over and over, I have to remind myself. But gods, it goes against every instinct I have to protect him.

"H-How long will this… this insanity go on, Levi?"

He sighed. "Hm… my body is… annoyingly resilient, as you know. So, I assume these waves of agony might continue for… three to five days? I'm not entirely sure myself, dear. It depends on how quickly the internal healing progresses."

How much can one person endure? How much can I endure, witnessing it?

"Dear," he murmured, his voice soft but firm, "you should really go home for a bit, hm? Take a long, hot shower… for me too, perhaps? Get a proper night's sleep. Then you can come back, refreshed."

"I am not leaving you here alone, Levi," I retorted sharply. "Shut up. Don't even suggest it."

"Raphael… Please. Go home. Just for today. Take a day off. For your own sake."

"I… I can't, Levi. I can't just leave you here… like this." My voice wavered, the thought of leaving him alone in this, felt like abandonment.

"I won't be alone, Raphael. Please. Go. Home." His voice was firm now. A flicker in his bloodshot eyes that went beyond mere exhaustion. The pain… it was so all-consuming, so utterly pervasive, that perhaps even my presence was another source of sensory overload. No. I wouldn't let myself succumb to sadness or self-pity. This was him, protecting me again, pushing me away before the inevitable sharpness of his pain-fueled words could wound me.

"Okay," I said softly, a lump forming in my throat. "I understand, Levi. I'll go home. I'll… I'll come back first thing in the morning."

…

I returned to our house. The long, hot shower was meant to cleanse more than just the grime of the crash; I scrubbed at the layers of despair and the clinging residue of fear. But even the gentle spray felt abrasive against my bruised skin, each droplet a tiny pinprick of discomfort.

Before succumbing to the exhaustion that threatened to swallow me whole, I packed a bag for Levi. It was filled with his indulgences: an embarrassing amount of his favorite chocolates and sweets, the specific brand of hot chocolate mix he adored, and the well-worn astronomical textbook he always read before sleep. Perhaps these small tokens of normalcy could offer a moment of comfort.

Then, I sent a message to Madame Evanthe, explaining the indefinite pause on our lessons. Her swift reply confirmed she had already seen the news reports. Of course. The Saint of Ascaria in a car crash was hardly a local story. Well… whatever the sensationalized version being broadcast, it was irrelevant. Fuck the intrusive glare of the television.

I laid my head on the pillow. Reaching out, I pulled Levi's pillow close, burying my face in its fabric, inhaling the faint, lingering trace of his scent. Oh, how I wished I could hold him, instead of this hollow substitute.

The first sliver of dawn had kissed the horizon when I grabbed Levi's bag. I rushed into the Academia, my footsteps echoing in the quiet morning corridors, and hurried towards his room. But the bed was empty, the sheets neatly tucked. A cold dread washed over me, my stomach plummeting.

Did… something terrible happen to him?

Relief washed over me in a dizzying wave as I questioned a passing nurse. She informed me that they had moved Levi to a private room. Thank gods. My pace quickened. The door was slightly ajar, and the scene within was immediately tense. A doctor stood by the bed, his expression firm, while Levi, pale but with a fierce glint in his eyes, was clearly in the midst of an argument.

"Just give me the ketamine," Levi insisted, his voice strained but resolute. "Put me under. I can't… I can't do this."

Gods… He was begging. The raw desperation in his voice was a physical blow. I hesitated at the door, unable to bring myself to interrupt, needing to understand. The doctor's response was firm, unwavering. He refused Levi's plea for ketamine, for unconsciousness, stating that a coma wasn't a bargaining chip for pain relief. Levi took a long, shuddering breath. "Nerve blocks, then," he said to the doctor, his voice quieter now, but with an undercurrent of steel.

"Mr. Blake… I understand that you are in pain—"

Levi cut him off. "Shut up and paralyze me."

The doctor began to object again, his voice laced with professional concern, but Levi, his words slurred slightly now, yet carrying an undeniable urgency, cut him off. "Just… give me the consent form. Before… before this pathetic excuse for a painkiller… wears off completely."

"Mr. Blake, I understand your distress, but this is a very serious decision," the doctor reiterated, his tone firm yet laced with a final attempt at reason. "Are you absolutely certain this is what you want? We haven't exhausted all other avenues."

"Fuck off and give me the consent form."

Levi… cussed. And not just a mild curse, but a furious, guttural dismissal. Levi… just… used a swear word. Levi… cussed. The world cracked.

I couldn't bear it any longer. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Levi's eyes widened.

"Just… just explain to me, Levi," I pleaded. "What in the hells do you mean by paralysis…?"

He looked at me, a flicker of his old patience returning amidst the pain. "Epidural, in its most basic form, dear," he explained, his voice still raspy but calmer now that I was there. "They'd insert a catheter near my spinal nerves and continuously administer a local anesthetic. It would block the pain signals from the lower half of my body… maybe even higher, depending on the dosage." He paused, a grimace tightening his features. "I wouldn't be able to move those parts, but… I wouldn't feel the tearing, the burning…"

"Okay… okay…" I repeated, the word "paralysis" still echoing in my mind. "But… what about the risks, Levi? There have to be risks involved with something like this."

He offered a humorless smile. "Well, unless they manage to completely botch the epidural placement – which, given this esteemed institution, is hopefully unlikely – there aren't any significant long-term risks, other than the rather undignified prospect of me soiling my bed because I won't be able to feel when I need to use the bathroom."

The flippant tone did little to ease my anxiety.

"So there are risks," I murmured, a confirmation of my deepest fears. "Gods, I hate this. I hate all of this. This… this nightmare."

"Naturally," Levi said. He fixed his bloodshot gaze on the doctor. "Go. Bring me the consent form. And let me be absolutely clear: do not so much as graze my spine during this procedure. If you do, I swear I will tear this entire institution apart, brick by brick. I will do it. Now move." The doctor, visibly unnerved by Levi's sudden shift in demeanor and the calm threat, nodded quickly and hurried out of the room.

No. Raphael, do not spiral. I forced myself to focus on the present, on the man lying in front of me. I opened the bag I'd brought and gently placed a dark chocolate, his favorite, in his unbound hand.

"I also brought you your favorite hot chocolate mix," I said, trying to keep my voice even, "and your latest read."

"Thanks, dearest," he murmured, a small smile gracing his lips as he placed the chocolate in his mouth.

"How was your night, Levi?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"Bad," he stated simply. "The electrocution… predictably, did not work. It was simply a pricking sensation, utterly ineffective."

"Y-You… you asked the doctor for ketamine earlier…"

"Indeed," he confirmed, a faint smile touching his lips. "A blissful, unconscious sleep for a couple of days. But the doctor was… resistant. So, let us now fervently pray that this epidural proves to be more effective, and less… consciousness-altering."

If it doesn't work… what then? What will he ask for next? Gods, please let this work. Please let him find some peace. I can't bear to see him like this any longer.

"What can I do, Levi?"

He managed a weak smile. "Hm… I assume my usual… aversion… to catheters will have to take a backseat for now. So, please be kind enough to leave the room when they insert the urinary catheter – no need for you to witness that particular indignity. After they've placed the epidural, though, I'll need you to do a couple of things for me. Touch my toes every now and then, will you? Just to make sure those spinal nerves are still… communicating. And," he paused, his gaze softening, "place a chocolate in my mouth every now and then. A small comfort in the numbness."

"I will, Levi. How are you feeling right now?"

"Hm… about a four out of ten on the pain scale," he replied, a slight improvement from the earlier agony, "but I actually managed to get a bit of sleep earlier, so it's… bearable for the moment."

Just then, the doctor and a couple of nurses entered the room. The doctor began to explain the epidural procedure in detail, outlining the potential risks and benefits, but Levi, had already signed the consent form and tossed it onto the bed.

The nurses asked me to leave the room. I didn't want to go. Not now, when he was about to undergo this invasive procedure. But I knew they needed the space, and my presence might only add to the tension. So, with a heavy heart and a knot of anxiety tightening in my chest, I left. A moment later, the silence from within was broken by Levi's sudden intake of breath. It was followed by a prolonged silence.

Yeah. I think, with a grim sort of relief, that Levi was finally able to pee in peace.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

I sank onto the couch outside Levi's room, my body tense, every nerve ending straining to decipher the muffled sounds emanating from within. I leaned forward, my ears nearly pressed against the closed door, desperately trying to discern the hushed voices of the medical staff, the rhythmic beeping of machines, any sign that would tell me how Levi was faring.

Gods, how long does this even take? An hour? Two? It felt like a lifetime. I had absolutely no concept of the timeframe for such a procedure. I sat there, rigid with anxiety, my gaze fixed on the closed door, as if willing it to open and reveal good news. Every few minutes, I'd snatch my phone from my pocket, mindlessly scrolling through news feeds I wasn't even registering. Then, I'd shove it back, the silence of the hallway pressing in again, and the waiting would resume.

After an eternity, though my phone indicated only half an hour had passed, the doctor finally emerged from the room, his expression neutral. The nurses remained inside. I didn't hesitate, pushing the door open and rushing to Levi's side. He lay still, his eyes closed for a moment, then he took a slow, deep breath and opened them, a faint whisper escaping his lips. "Two out of ten."

Thank gods...

I walked slowly to Levi's bedside, my gaze lingering on the array of tubes and medical equipment surrounding him, noticing with a slight frown the small smudges and marks on some of the surfaces that the nurses hadn't yet attended to. "Congrats, Levi," I said softly, a genuine smile finally breaking through the tension that had gripped me for so long.

"Oh, no congrats at all, dearest," Levi said with a slightly mischievous smile. "The indignities, are likely far from over. What, for instance, is the plan for my inevitable… bowel movement, now that my lower half is blissfully numb?"

Damn you, Levi. Leave it to him to shatter a perfectly good moment of relief with a thoroughly unromantic, albeit entirely valid, question about his bodily functions.

"Just take the damn victory, you idiot," I said, a fond exasperation coloring my tone.

"Hm…" Levi mused. "While I deeply appreciate my husband's diligent attention to my comfort – the occasional chocolate, the gentle toe-wiggling verification – I am rather curious about his full reaction to my current state of… palliative care. Surely, a man of your… expressive nature… has more elaborate methods of showing his relief?"

"Gods, Levi," I said, shaking my head but unable to suppress a smile. "Do you even feel it, you shameless man?"

"Not in the slightest," he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Consider it a fascinating experiment in the realm of altered sensation… all in the noble pursuit of scientific inquiry, of course."

I couldn't help but chuckle at his ridiculousness.

"Well, there's a rather unromantic plastic tube involved now, too," I pointed out dryly.

"Indeed," Levi agreed, completely unfazed. "That delightfully utilitarian urine bag will ensure a certain… tidiness. A controlled experiment, wouldn't you say?"

The epidural had barely taken hold, the pain had only slightly receded, and he was already back to his old tricks. I sighed, a small smile playing on my lips, and pushed another dark chocolate between his lips.

"Just… shut up, Levi."

…

The day passed with a sense of normalcy. Levi's pain remained low, allowing him to sleep fitfully, eat a small meal, and even engage in brief conversation. The nurses were attentive, regularly checking his vitals and diligently ensuring his skin remained clean and dry, preventing any rashes. The constant groaning that had haunted the previous days was blessedly absent. The epidural, it seemed, was truly working.

Later that night, as I gently tickled his toes, a small smile flickered across his lips. No nerve damage, thank gods. But a few hours later, the peaceful quiet of the room was shattered. Levi began to groan, the sounds escalating in volume and intensity, a chilling echo of his earlier agony. I jolted awake on the uncomfortable couch, my heart pounding in my chest. His hand slammed down on the red call button on the bedside table.

The room instantly flooded with a flurry of movement. Levi's voice, thinned by pain, cut straight. "Blood clot. Calf."

The doctor's face tightened, and he grabbed a portable ultrasound device, the cold metal pressed against Levi's tense calf. Before I could even process, the nurses were guiding me out of the room once more, leaving me alone with my terror in the hallway.

Time lost all meaning as I waited, the silence punctuated only by the muffled sounds from Levi's room and the thud of my head repeatedly hitting the cool wall. Their jargon was surf breaking over my head. But Levi… even in his pain, he had uttered "blood clot" with such grim certainty. And knowing his stubbornness, he was likely already interrogating the doctors, demanding the right course of action. Then, another doctor rushed past me, carrying a tray laden with monitors and unfamiliar instruments.

The door creaked open, and a nurse gestured for me to come back in. And there he was, my Levi. He was mid-argument with one of the doctors, his voice still a bit strained but carrying that familiar sharp edge.

"It has nothing to do with the epidural, you idiot," he insisted, his gaze unwavering. "I have been virtually immobile for the past seventy-two hours! It's the prolonged stasis, the lack of movement!"

Well. Even with a piece of a blood clot having just been removed from his calf, his spirit, thankfully, remained gloriously Levi.

"Oh?" Levi said, his voice laced with a sardonic edge. "Of course, by all means, do administer blood thinners. It's not as if my entire abdominal wall isn't currently resembling a particularly brutal war zone, riddled with stitches and tender flesh."

That's the standard treatment for a clot, isn't it? But his abdomen… all those stitches, the raw healing tissue. This just keeps getting worse. One step forward, two steps back.

They spoke of targeted interventions, clotting factors, and potential risks, their words a foreign language I desperately wished I understood. Eventually, a consensus seemed to emerge: a more localized approach to address the immediate blood clot, followed by a period of monitoring. If no further clotting occurred, the blood thinners might be avoided altogether. I truly needed to educate myself on medical terminology. Levi, of course, navigated the conversation with infuriating ease, his knowledge stemming from his company's pharmaceutical ventures and a long-standing fascination with anatomy. Meanwhile, I stood there, a useless as my injured husband, fresh from surgery and the removal of a blood clot, intellectually sparred with two medical professionals.

The nurses produced a compression stocking – a rather heavy-duty sock, really – and helped Levi put it on his affected leg. They then performed another ultrasound scan of his calf, and according to Levi's rather graphic, if simplified, explanation, it was as if they had sucked the remaining clot out with a straw during the procedure. He was doing his best to break down into terms I could grasp, a kindness I appreciated, yet it only left me feeling even more inadequate.

...

As morning broke, the news was cautiously optimistic: no new clots had formed. The immediate crisis seemed to have passed. Levi explained that as long as no piece of the existing clot decided to embark on a perilous journey to his lungs, he would be alright.

A clot could… travel all the way to his lungs?

My inadequacy in the face of this medical battle felt more acute than ever. All I could offer were small gestures – stroking his hair, a fleeting sweetness on his tongue – while a silent war raged within him.

I focused on the small victory of getting Levi to eat. I knew he processed fear differently than mine, but if I were in his position I would likely be curled in a fetal position, bracing for the worst. Instead, Levi was his usual acerbic self, peppering the doctors with his pointed insults, and we even managed some semblance of normal conversation. I prepared his favorite hot chocolate mix, omitting any extra sugar, my worry about his health overriding his usual indulgence.

"Pulla," Levi said softly, observing my furrowed brow as he took a sip of the cooled hot chocolate I'd prepared. "You seem… distressed.”

"Of course I'm stressed, Levi," I replied, my voice sharper than intended. I took a larger gulp of my own drink. "I feel utterly useless. I don't understand half of what's happening, all I can manage is to coax you into eating and drinking. I can't even hold my own in a conversation with those doctors."

"Ah, dearest, my current skillset is rather limited to horizontal repose. We are simply waiting for my recalcitrant body to cease its internal warfare. We await the signing of a peace treaty, as it were."

"What a morbid analogy, Levi," I said with a shaky chuckle, the tension in my shoulders easing ever so slightly. "Also, stop trying to downplay it. You immediately knew, didn't you? You knew exactly what was happening with that blood clot."

"Indeed," he confirmed, wincing slightly as he took another sip. "My calf felt rather as if it were being slowly sawed off by a dull blade. Given the blissful numbness courtesy of this delightful epidural, such a sensation was… rather anomalous. Thus, the diagnosis was, shall we say, elementary, my dear Pulla."

"Elementary for you," I retorted, managing a weak smile. "If I felt like my leg was being slowly sawn off, the entire hospital would know about it. There would be screaming. Possibly fainting." I paused, a genuine curiosity piquing through my worry. "But… why didn't you ever become a doctor or something? You clearly know your shit."

"The sheer monotony would drive me to madness. Explaining the intricacies of the human body, the same basic principles, over and over and over to a never-ending stream of bewildered patients? No, no, my dear. I would be buried under a veritable mountain of medical malpractice lawsuits within the month."

"I didn't even consider your bedside manner," I said, a genuine laugh escaping me. "It would be a spectacle. Patients would probably request a transfer to the next city."

"Indeed," Levi agreed, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "My bedside manner would be so atrocious that medical practitioners would spontaneously take to the streets, not to protest, but to actively seek out individuals willing to publicly burn my medical license in effigy. It would be a community event."

"To be honest, I can picture it. You wouldn't even be on the street; you'd be perched on a high tree branch, offering scathing commentary on their pathetic inefficiency at setting your imaginary medical license ablaze."

Levi chuckled softly, a low rumble in his chest. "A tree?" he echoed, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. He was about to elaborate, no doubt with some wonderfully absurd imagery, when his phone suddenly blared to life.

"What?" Levi snapped. "I am out of commission. That is the very definition of sick leave. Handle your responsibilities and do not contact me again unless it is a genuine emergency." He listened for a moment, his expression unyielding. "Hm…" he murmured, his fingers tapped on the metal rail of the bed. "How significant is the devaluation?" he asked, his gaze distant as he absorbed the information. "Hm… It is not catastrophic. We will allow the upcoming presidential rally to exert its… predictable influence. I expect the full currency transition to be completed by the end of the week," he stated, his voice brooking no argument. "Good enough. And Shaw," he added, his tone laced with dismissal, "do not mistake this as an invitation for a bedside visit filled with insincere platitudes."

"Wow…" I breathed out, utterly stunned. "So, the currency change is actually finished, Levi? And the presidential rallies have already begun?"

"Indeed," he confirmed, a hint of pride coloring his voice. "While the rather tedious currency change will soon be a footnote in history, the presidential rallies are a far more… theatrical affair. Give it a month or two, dearest, and Ascaria will finally have its first democratically elected president."

"You actually did it…" I whispered, still trying to process the enormity of it all. "You actually accomplished everything you set out to do… Wow…"

"Hm," he purred. "Was my Pulla harboring doubts regarding my abilities?"

"No. No, Gods, Levi…" I stammered, shaking my head in disbelief. "It's just… hard to wrap my head around. You dismantled a centuries-old monarchy, then you single-handedly instigated a democratic system, then you orchestrated a complete currency change, and now you're on the cusp of the nation's first presidential election. Shit… Levi… I honestly don't even know what to say…"

He just… did it. And he's so casual about it, like it's just another Tuesday.

"Then what, Levi?" I asked, my curiosity piqued about his next grand scheme.

"Hm…" he mused, taking another thoughtful sip of his drink. "Ideally, I'd like to return to managing my own company. With a president in place, my… consulting work on the nation's foundational shifts will, thankfully, be concluded. Unless, of course," a familiar glint returned to his eyes, "they decide to stroke my ego sufficiently and present me with a truly intriguing puzzle to solve. Otherwise, my dear, I will happily retreat to the familiar chaos of my own enterprise."

“I actually have a question. Holden being the late King's cousin... how exactly did that come about? And how on earth did you manage to make a royal... your secretary?"

Levi offered a wry smile. "Ah, my dear Pulla, the intricacies of royal lineage can be quite... tangled, especially when illegitimacy is involved. As you astutely observed, Holden is a remarkably capable individual, intelligent and driven. However, being born outside the legitimate succession meant his path to any semblance of power within the old regime was effectively blocked. Unless, he embarked on a rather... ambitious campaign of regicide and wholesale slaughter of the entire royal family. During my rather frequent visits to the Royal Palace in my younger years, fulfilling my ducal obligations and enduring those interminable royal galas, I encountered him. The King, consistently denied Holden any recognition, any semblance of dignity. That simmering resentment, that perfectly justifiable anger, proved... remarkably pliable."

Levi's gaze sharpened. "I simply... presented Holden with an alternative. Explained my vision for Ascaria, one where the antiquated structures of nobility and dynasty would be... reimagined. He understood the inherent injustices, the stifling limitations placed upon him by his birth. Our goals, in that regard, aligned rather neatly."

He leaned back against the pillows, a faint smile touching his lips. "You see the delicious irony, of course. Had that pompous monarch pig possessed even a sliver of decency and acknowledged Holden's existence, offered him some modicum of respect, it would have made my task of dismantling the monarchy considerably more... challenging. Sometimes, my dear, the greatest obstacles contain the seeds of their own destruction."

"My god, Levi…" I breathed out, the implications of his words sinking in. "So, you essentially... groomed someone with royal blood, someone the King himself had scorned, into becoming your own... pawn in this grand scheme to dismantle the monarchy?" The word "pawn" felt harsh, but it reflected the nature of his actions.

Levi offered a languid smile, his gaze holding that familiar blend of amusement and something sharper. "Ah, my dear Pulla, such a crude term. Let's call it... strategic alignment of interests. And I wasn't entirely without my own puppeteer in those days, you must remember.

"I was young too, constantly being molded, groomed into a future I never truly desired. A future as a King, a rather fitting, albeit ironic, end for a system I came to despise. In a way, Holden and I were both being shaped by the very institution I sought to dismantle. The difference was, I chose to seize control of my own narrative, and in doing so, offered him the same opportunity."

"Hm…" I began, shifting slightly in my chair. "You know, you mentioned your mother's attempts to steer you towards the monarchy, but you've never really explained the specifics..."

Levi's expression darkened, a flicker of genuine revulsion crossing his pale features. "The specifics, my dear Raphael, are rather… unpleasant. The ambition of certain individuals within my family knew no bounds. It wasn't merely about grooming me for the throne; Julia and I were also being prepared for a marriage from the very moment we drew breath."

A visible shudder ran through his frame, despite his efforts to remain composed. "Thank the gods for the passage of that relatively recent law, barely two decades ago, that finally allowed us the possibility of divorce. Just the memory of those suffocating expectations, that predetermined future… it makes my stomach churn. Which, as you can imagine, is particularly unwelcome at the moment."

"Oh, Levi, I am so incredibly sorry," I murmured, my voice thick with remorse. I rose from the chair and leaned closer to his bedside, my hand hovering near his. "I didn't mean to dredge up such painful memories."

He offered a reassuring smile. "It's alright, dearest. Those particular chapters of the Blake family saga can be revisited at a more... opportune moment, perhaps with a stronger constitution on both our parts." He then reached out, his hand finding my cheek, his touch feather-light but grounding. I leaned into the familiar warmth. It felt like an eternity since we'd simply talked, truly connected.

"Gods, Levi," I whispered, my voice catching. "I just want to go home. With you. Seeing you like this, so… diminished, and feeling utterly helpless to do anything… it's just too much to bear."

His thumb traced soft circles on my cheek. "Ah, my Pulla," he murmured, his voice laced with a tenderness. "I am thankfully not in any significant pain at this moment, courtesy of our friend the epidural. But believe me, my dear, the desire to return to our home, with you by my side, is a sentiment I wholeheartedly share."