He touched the corner of her eye, wiping away the wetness. His voice was exceptionally gentle. "Even though I want you to worry about me, to have me in your heart, to cry for me because you care... now that you’re actually doing it, my heart aches for you instead. Don’t cry. I’ll get better."
A moment later, she took his hand. With his palm facing up, Chloe’s fingertip began to trace characters, one stroke at a time.
"You’re overthinking things. I just got sand in my eyes."
Feeling what she wrote, Walker’s lips curved into a smile. "In that case, the conditions in this hospital room must be terrible if it’s got sand in it."
Chloe clutched his fingers and didn’t write anything else.
She looked at the man, his eyes wrapped in white gauze, and a bitter ache filled her heart.
She had wanted to divorce him, to make a clean break, but she had never wanted him to get hurt, or to die.
They had once loved each other; an amicable breakup would have been for the best.
’But now, how could I possibly leave?’
’He lost his sight protecting me.’
’From now on, I have to be his eyes until he makes a full recovery.’
’If I do that, maybe this bitter ache in my heart will ease a little?’
As Chloe’s thoughts ran wild, her long eyelashes trembled.
"Chloe."
The hospital room fell silent. Even though she was holding his hand, he still felt a sense of panic.
He called her name. "If you’re here, touch me. Give me a response. Otherwise, I don’t know where you are, and I’ll start to panic."
His voice was slow and hoarse, laced with a panic he himself didn’t seem to realize was there.
’When had he ever shown this kind of emotion?’
’Now that he was blind, his only perception of the world was through sound and touch.’
’And I’m the one who can no longer speak.’
’He must be so scared.’
Chloe gently squeezed his fingers, signaling that she was still there.


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