"Then I have the best reason in the world to heal."
Hours later, two nurses arrive to help with the transfer. With extreme care, they place Dominic on a stretcher. He complains a little but doesn't protest. His hand never lets go of mine.
"Will you come with me?" he asks in a low voice.
"Of course. To the ends of the earth, if necessary."
The journey to the new room is slow, but Dominic is conscious, attentive, even with small gestures of humor to lighten the tension. The hospital corridors seemed less cold than I remembered, as if the simple act of taking him out of the ICU filled the environment with a different energy.
When we enter the private room, I carefully settle him in the bed. The monitors beep less frequently, and the atmosphere feels warmer, more human. A window allows a
