As the door to the hospital room slowly creaked open, the dim lights revealed Giselle lying pale and unconscious on the bed. Her right arm was wrapped inyers of bandages, and an IV drip was attached to her hand, a stark reminder of her recent ordeal with blood loss.


    Lysander sat quietly beside her, lost in thought.


    After what seemed like an eternity, Giselle''s eyshes fluttered as she slowly regained consciousness. Her eyes, still clouded with confusion, met Lysander''s.


    "Lysander?"


    "Yes, I''m here," he replied softly.


    Giselle managed a faint smile, though her eyes were red-rimmed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought you wouldn''te."


    "I promised you, didn''t I?"


    "Yes, you did," she replied, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Suddenly, she asked with a weakugh, "Lysander, how long have we known each other?"


    Lysander paused, thinking back. "It must be twenty years now."


    "Twenty years and five months," Giselle corrected him with a surprising precision. Lysander was momentarily taken aback. "You remember so clearly."


    "Every day I''ve known you is etched in my memory," she said, her smile tinged with sadness.


    Lysander remained silent.


    "Do you remember the first time we met?" Giselle asked again.


    "It was summer, wasn''t it?" Lysander replied, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.


    "Yes, it was summer. We were nine. I was a few months older than you," Giselle recalled, a smallugh escaping her lips.


    "My mom asked me to y with you. You loved carving wood back then. I was curious about your wooden sculptures, tried to pick one up, and you pushed me away. I broke a few of them, and we almost ended up fighting. It was your mom and mine who finally separated us," she recounted with a chuckle.


    Lysander nodded, smiling at the memory.


    Giselle continued, "After that, I felt guilty for touching something you cherished. My mom and I went out to buy some wooden carvings as an apology. That''s how we made up."


    "From then on, through elementary, middle, and high school, even college, we were always together. We studied abroad side by side..."


    As Giselle''s voice trailed off, she seemed to tire, her gaze drifting to the sterile white ceiling. Suddenly, she asked, "Lysander, do you love M?"


    Lysander was caught off guard, unsure how to respond.


    Before he could gather his thoughts, Giselle continued, her voice breaking, "If I had given up studying abroad and stayed with you, would things be different now?"


    Silence enveloped them, broken only by Giselle''s quiet sobs. Eventually, she whispered, "It doesn''t matter. Just having you here with me is enough."


    Lysander reached out to wipe away her tears, but hesitated. Giselle grasped his hand, her touch delicate as her tears fell.


    "Stay with me, don''t leave, okay?" she pleaded.


    Lysander hesitated, his emotions in turmoil.


    Giselle''s eyes lowered, tears silently streaming down her cheeks. "Just like when


    we were abroad, when I stayed with you, please, Lysander?"


    His fingers trembled.


    He gently pulled his hand away but remained by her side, tenderly brushing away her tears. "Okay."


    ...


    The following morning, Lysander still hadn''t returned to the family estate.


    Conrad, Lysander''s father, faced his wife''s usatory re over breakfast. He had no exnation to offer, so he mumbled something about their son being busy with work.


    M sat nearby, sipping her tea with a serene smile, her expression unreadable.


    Lysander had been working from home recently, so his sudden departure in the middle of the night could only mean one thing. But M, having already decided on divorce, felt nothing about where Lysander went or whom he was with. She had long ceased to expect anything more from him.