Chapter 2 POV Julianna

****20 years ago

I first noticed him in the hospital waiting room, slouched in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs, staring at the wall with an intensity that seemed to mask the pain beneath it. I'd just come from a brutal appointment with the doctor, his words still hanging over me like a shadow. They said the medicine was supposed to help, to keep things from getting worse. But the side effects... I could already feel them gnawing at me, draining my energy, my spirit. It was the kind of despair that makes you feel invisible, and maybe that's why I was drawn to him; he seemed to carry that same invisible weight.

When I took my seat a few chairs away, he looked up, his dark eyes catching mine for a fleeting moment before he looked away again. But that one look was enough-it was as if he understood, as if he could see through the layers I'd carefully put on to keep people out. The silence between us wasn't awkward; it was almost comforting, like finding a stranger who understands your language.

Days passed, and our paths continued to cross in that waiting room, each of us stealing glances, each of us caught in our own battles. We never spoke, not at first, but somehow, his presence became a steady thing in my chaotic world. The treatments wore me down, and on those days when I felt weakest, it was as if he could sense it. He'd nod slightly, a silent gesture that grounded me, a reminder that I wasn't facing this alone.

Then, one day, he was gone. I couldn't bear to admit how hollow I felt sitting there, waiting for the doctor's routine prognosis, and glancing at the empty chair beside me. But just when I thought I'd never see him again, he showed up again a few days later, this time with bruises and a stitched cut above his eye. I couldn't help myself-I reached out, my fingers barely grazing his arm as I asked, "Rough day?"

He chuckled, a low, rough sound, and finally, he let me in. His name was Makidi, and he was every bit as stubborn and scarred as I was. We started talking in bits and pieces, sharing things we'd probably never tell anyone else. He had a sharp wit, an unexpected kindness beneath the gruff exterior, and before I knew it, he was more than just a stranger in the waiting room.

I fell in love with him slowly, almost reluctantly, as if my heart knew it was dangerous, but I couldn't stop myself. He became my reason to smile, my reason to keep fighting, and I wanted more than anything to bring him into my world, the good parts of it. So, one evening, I asked him to come home with me, to meet my family. I could see the surprise in his eyes, the way his guard dropped for a moment, and then he nodded.

When I brought him home to my parents, I realized just how much I wanted them to see what I saw in him. To see past the bruises and scars, to understand that he was the first person in a long time who made me feel...alive. They were cautious, unsure of him at first, but eventually, they softened. He had that effect on people-once he let them in, they couldn't help but care.

As the days turned to weeks, I clung to the hope that we could build a future together, that I could put the shadows of the hospital and the harsh drugs behind me. Makidi became my anchor, my steady force through the ups and downs. I didn't know where life would take us, or how long I'd have with him, but I knew I'd found something real. In the bleakness of my hardest days, he'd been my light, and with him by my side, I finally felt like I could face whatever came next.