CHAPTER 158: THE SOFT RETURN

The door creaked open, and Dr. Harris stepped in with a clipboard in hand, followed by a nurse or two. His usual stern presence was a little softened today, his tone relaxed as his eyes met Billy’s.

"Well, look who’s fully awake," he said, walking over with measured steps. "How are we feeling?"

Billy sat up a little straighter, Artur helping him adjust the pillow behind his back. "Better. A bit sore, but... I feel like myself."

Dr. Harris gave a small nod. "Vitals are steady. Reflexes are back where they should be. And most importantly—" he glanced at the chart, "—your scans look clear. If everything remains stable through the next few hours, we’ll discharge you by evening."

Artur blinked. "That soon?"

Dr. Harris offered a knowing smile. "There’s no reason to keep him here once we’re sure he’s okay. And besides, some recoveries are better continued surrounded by familiar things... and people."

Billy chuckled, then teased lightly, "You just want your bed back, don’t you?"

Artur raised a brow. "Maybe. Maybe I just want you to need me somewhere other than a hospital chair."

The nurse checked his IV as they bantered, trying not to smile. Dr. Harris gave a few final notes to the staff, then turned to Billy again.

"Rest a bit more, have something light to eat. We’ll run final checks this afternoon."

"Thank you," Billy said sincerely.

The doctor nodded, and with that, the small team filed out as quietly as they’d come in.

Once the door clicked shut again, Billy turned back to Artur, a lopsided grin creeping across his face.

"Looks like you’re stuck with me again."

Artur let out a quiet laugh. "Yeah," he said, leaning back in his chair, eyes soft. "And for once... I don’t mind at all."

A few minutes passed in soft stillness, only the distant hallway sounds filling the room. Billy shifted slightly, stretching his arms, and glanced at the window. The sun had risen fully now, casting a golden hue across the bed sheets.

Artur sat beside him, one leg tucked under, gently brushing a hand through his own unruly hair, when a knock came — light and familiar.

Before either of them could answer, the door eased open, and Camila stepped in, balancing a small tray with practiced grace.

"Well, well," she said, beaming, "I figured someone might be hungry."

Billy’s eyes lit up. "You brought breakfast?"

"I thought you might want something that doesn’t taste like it came out of a vending machine," she teased, setting the tray on the small table by the bed. "Your mom already left early this morning, but she said to make sure you ate well."

The aroma hit them — warm, buttery bread rolls, something that smelled like seasoned eggs and a thermos of what could only be her famous ginger tea.

"You’re a life-saver," Billy said, already reaching for a roll.

Camila pretended to scold him. "Slow down, Mr. Recovery. Chew like a human being."

Artur chuckled and stood to help adjust the tray. "Looks like we won’t be leaving this room until every crumb is gone."

"Exactly," Camila said with a wink. "Doctor’s orders. Well... nurse’s interference."

Billy bit into a piece of bread and let out a sigh. "Okay, I take it back. Hospitals aren’t so bad when you visit."

She laughed, her hands on her hips. "If that’s your way of saying you missed me, I’ll accept it."

He grinned and gave her a mock salute with his cup of tea. "Guilty."

Artur leaned beside the bed, watching the two of them with soft amusement. For the first time in what felt like days, there was no heaviness in the air — just warmth, the smell of good food, and the comfort of people who cared deeply.

Camila sat at the edge of the room, letting the moment settle around them.

"Even when things got really scary," she said quietly, "I never stopped believing you’d come back."

Billy glanced at her, something gentle in his gaze. "Thanks for waiting."

"Always," she said.

And just like that, breakfast became more than just food — it became a reminder that life was slowly finding its way back into his hands.

The day passed quietly, filled with soft footsteps, light conversation, and the occasional knock from nurses checking in. Billy dozed on and off, comforted by the rhythmic presence of Artur nearby, occasionally waking to Camila flipping through a magazine or humming softly to herself.

The sun dipped slowly, casting warm amber streaks across the hospital walls.

Then came the familiar soft knock.

Dr. Harris stepped in, this time with a brighter smile, followed by a nurse wheeling a portable monitor.

"Well, looks like you’ve held up your end of the bargain," he said, glancing over the chart. "Vitals are steady, and your responsiveness is right where we want it."

Billy straightened a little in bed, suddenly more alert. "So...?"

Dr. Harris looked up and gave a small nod. "You’re clear to go home, Billy."

Camila let out a cheerful gasp behind him. "You hear that?"

Billy blinked. "I can really leave?"

"Barring any last-minute surprises, yes," the doctor said with a grin. "But take it easy, alright? No heavy lifting, no sudden stress, and definitely no running off into the woods alone anytime soon."

Artur gave Billy a knowing glance. "You hear that? That last part is specifically about you."

Billy smirked but leaned back with visible relief. "Fair enough."

"We’ll process your discharge papers," the nurse added. "Shouldn’t be more than half an hour. In the meantime, start thinking about where you want your first post-hospital meal to come from."

Billy turned to Camila. "If she cooks it, I don’t care what it is."

Camila rolled her eyes with a grin. "Don’t start buttering me up now."

Artur reached over and squeezed Billy’s shoulder. "You did good."

Billy looked up, tired but steady, gratitude flickering behind his eyes. "I didn’t do it alone."

The room quieted for a moment, not heavy—just full. Full of everything that hadn’t been said, and everything that didn’t need to be.

Outside, the sky faded to a soft indigo, the lights inside beginning to hum a little warmer.

Billy exhaled. "I’m going home."

Camila moved quietly, folding each piece of clothing with careful hands—as if tucking the day away one memory at a time.

The quiet rustle of movement filled the room with a kind of peaceful finality.

Billy pulled on his jacket slowly, then turned toward Artur with a boyish smile. "C’mon... we’re going home."

But Artur didn’t move. He stood still, hands resting in his pockets, eyes lowered.

"I think you should go ahead first," Artur said gently. "They need you. And you need them."

Billy’s smile faded. "What? Why?"

Artur glanced toward the window, like the words were easier to find in the fading sky. "You need time with your family. To talk. To breathe a little. It’s been a lot, and... I don’t want to be in the way."

"In the way?" Billy asked, brows knitting together. "Artur, you’re not—"

"I’ll get a hotel nearby," Artur added quickly, almost like he’d rehearsed it. "Just for the night. Give you space."

Before Billy could respond, Camila’s voice cut through, firm and clear. "Why a hotel?"

She turned to Billy. "He can stay at your apartment. It’s already set up, and it’s close by."

Billy looked at her, then back at Artur. "Yeah. She’s right. It’s better."

Artur looked between them, unsure, until Camila gave him a knowing nod. "I’ll take him there. You just go on home, talk to your parents. They’ll want time with you. And he’ll be nearby when you’re ready."

Billy opened his mouth, breath catching like he wanted to protest—but then he saw Artur’s eyes. Not cold, not distant. Just steady. Warm. Steeped in a kind of quiet understanding that said, I’m still here... just not beside you this second.

It wasn’t rejection.

It was love folded into restraint. Space offered not to push away, but to lift.

Billy stepped closer, the words catching behind his ribs. "You’re not in the way. You never are."

Artur’s smile was small, but it held. "I know," he said, softly. "But I also know this moment matters for you. And I want you to take it. Fully."

Behind them, Camila adjusted the strap on her shoulder. She gave Billy a light pat on the arm, her voice easy, her presence steady. "We’ll be alright. Go do what only you can do."

Billy’s hand brushed Artur’s—not holding, not clutching. Just resting there for a moment, warm skin meeting warm skin. His fingers twitched like they wanted to stay.

Then he nodded, breath low in his chest as he turned toward the hallway.

His feet moved forward.

But his heart stayed back.

Not because he felt abandoned.

But because the one who had pulled him through the darkest hours was now stepping away—not out of absence, but presence. Making space the way people do when they love you deeply. When they want you to fly without forgetting where the ground is.