Chapter 57H
Chapter 57: I Wasn’t Alone.–1
Clara
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When the nurse closed the door behind me, the world ceased to exist in everything that was not that room. The sound of the monitor marking the pulse was constant, but irregular, as if it was also tired. The smell of disinfectant was mixed with something heavier, something that is only perceived when life is sustained by machines.
My father was there, smaller, more fragile.
Pale skin, almost transparent under white light. The tubes, the cables, the oxygen. I had never seen his body so still. He always took up space, always filled the rooms with his deep voice and deep laughter. Now he seemed reduced to assisted breathing.
I approached slowly, as if fearing that any sudden movement might break the delicate balance that held him here.
“Dad,” I whispered, and my voice didn’t sound like mine.
I took his hand, it was warm. Thank God it was lukewarm.
His fingers no longer had the strength they had before, but when I intertwined mine with his, I felt a slight pressure. Barely noticeable. But it was there. And at that moment I knew that he had waited for me.
That he had resisted. That he hadn’t left because I hadn’t arrived yet.
I leaned closer, resting my forehead against the back of his hand.
“I’m here, Dad. I’ve arrived.”
My tears began to fall without violence, without hysteria, just constant, as if the body understood that now it could let go. His breathing was slow, labored, each inhalation seemed like a conscious effort.
“Forgive me for being late,” I said, even though I knew it wasn’t true, even though I had arrived as fast as I could. “Forgive me if I was ever not there when you needed me.”
His eyelids fluttered slightly, and with an effort that broke my heart, he barely opened them. His eyes no longer held their former clarity, but they recognized me. I knew because something changed in his
expression, something that went beyond physical pain.
“My child,” he murmured in a voice so weak that I had to lean almost over his chest to hear him.
My child.
The way he always called me when I was scared.
The air broke inside my chest.
“I’m here, Dad,” I repeated. “I’m not leaving.”
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Chapter S
His lips tried to form something else. I moved even closer, caressing his cheek carefully.
“Don’t cry,” he managed to say, barely audible.
A broken smile appeared in the middle of my tears.
“I’m not crying,” I lied, though tears fell on our clasped hands.
His breathing became heavier, but his eyes did not stop looking at me. It was as if he was memorizing my face. Like he needed to make sure I was actually there.
“Always… proud…” he whispered with difficulty.
The monitor made a more irregular sound.
“Don’t talk, rest,” I asked, but he shook his head slightly.
That minimal gesture destroyed me because it meant that he still had the will, that he was still fighting, but not to stay, but to say goodbye.
“You are strong,” he continued with long pauses between words. “More… than you think.”
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I shook my head, because at that moment I didn’t feel strong, I felt like a little girl who didn’t want to let go of her father’s hand on the first day of school.
“I don’t want to be strong now,” I confessed. “I want you to stay.”
His gaze softened. With an almost imperceptible effort, he moved his fingers over mine again.
“You have… to live,” he said. “Do not… stop.”
The monitor showed a slight decrease in his heart rate.
My heart began to pound in panic.
“Dad, look at me,” I pleaded urgently. “Look at me, please.”
His eyes were still open, but the light was fading.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
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I didn’t know why he was thanking me. Maybe for arriving. Maybe for existing. Maybe for being his daughter.
I leaned down and kissed his forehead, feeling the warmth of his skin, trying to etch it into my memory.
“Thank you,” I said through tears. “Thank you for teaching me to ride a bike, even when I fell, for waiting up for me when I stayed out late, for believing in me even when I didn’t believe in myself. Thank you for being
my dad.”
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Chapter 52+ We 1 Alene
Chapter 57: I Wasn’t Alone.–2
The monitor emitted a longer beep. Not continuous yet, but fainter
“I love you,” I said, this time holding nothing back. “I love you with all that I am.”
His lips moved one last time.
“I… I love you more.”
And then his breathing changed.
It was subtle at first, like a longer sigh. His chest rose… and it took him a long time to get off. The sound of the monitor became unsteady, intermittent, until it finally spread out in a continuous line that pierced the air.
There was no drama, there was no violence. Just silence… A silence that occupied everything.
I stood there, with my forehead against his, holding his hand even when I was no longer squeezing mine. I waited a second. Two. Three. As if my mind needed to prove that it was real.
“Dad,” I whispered.
But he was gone.
The man who taught me how to walk, how to defend myself, how not to give up, had just left in front of me, and he did it after making sure I was there.
He had waited for me.
And that certainty, although painful, was also a gift.
I cried, but this time not in despair, but with a deep and clean sadness, like a farewell that, although never enough, had been complete.
I caressed his face one last time.
“Rest,” I said. “I’m going to be fine. I promise you.”
I didn’t know how I was going to keep that promise, but I needed to say it.
Because if he had taught me anything, it was to keep going even when the heart is too heavy.
I slowly pulled away, kissed his forehead for the last time and stared at him for a few more seconds,
recording every detail, every line of his face, to take with me.
Then I took a deep breath. And I went out… Not because I was ready, but because he was done fighting.
And now it was my turn.
I don’t remember how I got out of the room. I only know that the air in the hallway hit me differently, as if the world was still running with a cruel normality while mine had just broken.
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