Selene's POV
The hospital lights had begun to dim with the waning hours of night. My body moved on autopilot, filing reports and finalizing charts, but my heart was already halfway out the door. Antonio's relative—his uncle—had finally recovered after days of close monitoring. I'd watched him slowly return to color, to breath, to laughter. It felt good. Like closing a chapter with a smile.
As I removed my gloves and scrub cap, a nurse passed me a thermos. "From the visitor's lounge," she said with a wink. "Handsome guy dropped it off. Said you'd need it."
I opened it—black coffee, perfectly warm. My heart fluttered. Antonio.
I stepped out into the cool morning air, the world still soft in its transition between night and day. The sky was a pale wash of lavender. I hadn't even taken five steps before I heard it:
"Tash!"
I turned, barely having time to react before Ayra barreled into me, arms tight around my waist, laughing like a child seeing her baby sis at recess. "You look like a zombie. A pretty zombie—but still a zombie."
"Gee, thanks," I chuckled, hugging her back. "Don't act like you don't love it."
"You know I do," she grinned.
Then came Mira, casually strolling in behind her with a grin and her camera slung around her neck. "Can we talk about how iconic you look in scrubs at sunrise? That's aesthetic goals."
"And here I thought I looked like I survived a war," I murmured.
"Exactly," Mira teased. "That's the aesthetic."
Amara joined next, quieter as always, but her warm smile was all I needed. "We brought backup," she said, stepping aside.
There he was.
Antonio.
Leaning against his BMW, coffee in one hand, sleepy smile in the other. His hair was messily styled, like he'd rolled out of bed just to come see me. And knowing him, he probably had.
"Hey," he said softly as I walked to him. "Heard you saved a life."
I didn't answer. I just melted into his arms, right there in the parking lot.
He smelled like cedarwood and comfort. His hands ran soothing circles down my back, pulling me impossibly closer.
"You came," I whispered against his chest.
"I'd always come," he replied.
The girls gave us space, drifting toward the edge of the lot, pretending not to stare. But I didn't care. The city could crumble around us, and I'd still only want this moment.
"Let's get you away from here," Antonio murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. "No patients. No beeping monitors. Just breakfast, music, and people who love you."
I smiled, eyes stinging. "Sounds perfect."
As we all piled into the car, Ayra called shotgun, Mira queued the playlist, and Amara brought snacks. I leaned into Antonio, fingers laced with his.
And for the first time in a long while, I wasn't walking home tired—I was driving into a day full of love.