Thanks For Sticking Around

The hospital floor gleamed, polished to perfection, the soft hum of wheels gliding across it as Fali pushed Mele’s wheelchair down the hallway.

After nearly a month, the day had finally come - she was going home.

Her dress fluttered dangerously close to the wheels until she tucked the fabric neatly beneath her thighs. A knitted cardigan hung over her shoulders, framing her quiet elegance despite the frailty of her body.

Her mind was restless. Being unable to move without help had left her far too much time to think - more than she ever wanted. She’d been in a coma for a week and a half, and the rest of her stay had been spent as surgeons attempted to reconnect the severed nerves. They hadn’t succeeded.

She’d come to terms with that - or at least convinced herself she had. She still hated it, of course. But the thought of everything she couldn’t do no longer brought tears to her eyes.

Fali had a lot to do with that.

He’d barely left her side the entire time. She couldn’t remember a single morning she’d woken up without his tired, gentle face watching over her. Judging by the shadows beneath his eyes, he hadn’t been sleeping much either.

When she asked him about it, he only shook his head and smiled.
“I won’t let you wake up alone ever again,” he’d said.

She wanted to protest - but the truth was, she liked waking up to him.

The wheelchair rolled into the elevator, its wheels clicking softly over the narrow metal threshold. The doors shut with a hiss, and the quiet hum of descent swallowed the noise of the hospital.

“I’m glad our house doesn’t have multiple stories,” Mele said suddenly.

Fali nodded, his voice low and thoughtful.
“Yeah. Would be a nightmare if it did.”

She grinned up at him, head tilted back over the seat.
“If it did, you’d have to carry me upstairs.”

He smiled.
“And I wouldn’t hesitate.”

She chuckled.
“I knew you wouldn’t.”

The elevator slowed smoothly to a stop. The doors opened, and the familiar bustle of the hospital greeted them again.

Fali pushed her along the corridor, ignoring the stares and whispered voices that followed them. At the front desk, they paused briefly to sign the last forms, grateful once more for the free healthcare that had carried them through all this.

Then, at last, the automatic doors slid open.

Mele breathed in deeply.
The air outside hit her like a blessing - tinged with exhaust fumes and the scent of nearby food stalls, yet brightened by the faint sweetness of the nature reserve beyond.

She tilted her head back, grinning upside down at Fali.
“We’re free! Can you believe it?”

He chuckled.
“You look more joyful than a freshly released POW.”

She laughed, full and bright.
“That’s kind of wild, but yeah, it feels like that.”

Her nose wrinkled.
“Ugh. I never want to stay in there that long ever again.”

Fali smiled.
“Then let’s make sure neither of us have to go back.”

“Unless we have a baby.”

“Yeah, unless we have a… what?”

Her grin widened, delighted at his flustered expression.
“You’re cute.”

Then she pointed dramatically forward, her arm raised like a general leading a charge.
“Let’s go!”

Fali laughed, the nervous knot in his chest dissolving. He pushed the wheelchair faster, the wind tousling her hair as they raced toward his little cloud-coloured car.

Mele’s laughter rang out across the parking lot - free, wild, and alive.

The car rolled to a stop on the gravel driveway, the engine ticking softly as it cooled. Fali exhaled, shoulders sagging with relief. Above them, the afternoon sky was a wash of blue, a few clouds drifting lazily overhead like pale whales gliding through sunlight.

Six hours of near-continuous driving had worn him out - just one short break for lunch had separated them from the endless stretch of road between the city and home.

A gentle nudge on his arm broke him from his daze. Mele smiled at him from the passenger seat, soft and content. He returned the smile and stepped out of the car, the crunch of gravel greeting his boots. The air out here was completely different - crisp, clean, filled with the scent of grass and distant rain instead of the stale exhaust and antiseptic tang of the city.

He opened the boot and pulled out her folded wheelchair, shaking it open with a practiced motion before wheeling it around to her side.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice light.

She nodded.

With care, he slipped his arms under her legs and back, lifting her out of the seat. She looped her arms around his neck instinctively - light as ever, but he could feel her heartbeat against his chest. He set her gently into the chair, locked the car, and started up the short stone path to the front door.

The house greeted them with stillness. It was dim, cool, and quiet - just as they’d left it. Dust motes drifted lazily in the air, glowing faintly in the sunlight filtering through the curtains.

Fali lifted the wheelchair’s front wheels over the threshold and flicked the switch near the door. Warm yellow light washed over the room.

Mele sighed.
“It’s nice to be back. I feel like I never really got to know this place.”

He chuckled, easing her into the lounge.
“You weren’t here for very long.”

She smiled over her shoulder.
“Exactly.”

He let go of the handles and stretched his arms high above his head, joints popping as he groaned.
“All right. We’ve got a lot to do.”

She nodded, the corners of her mouth curling upward. They’d made a list together while she was still in the hospital - a shared bucket list packed with dreams, small and large. Kissing under a sunset. Eating from the same bowl of spaghetti. Getting a pet. Owning a shop. Buying a house of their own.

And some dreams that hadn’t made it to the page - too shy, too private to say aloud.

“I reckon we stay home tomorrow,” Fali said. “Just rest a bit.”

“Yeah, I like that idea.” Mele’s brow furrowed. “Although… we’ll need to get food.”

He groaned. “Right. Forgot about that.”

“I’m going,” she said immediately, folding her arms.

He hesitated, then smiled, raising his hands in defeat.
“All right. We’ll go to the village tomorrow morning. For tonight…” He grinned. “We’ll force some poor delivery driver to keep a pizza warm.”

She giggled. “Sounds like a plan. Think they’ll manage it?”

He shook his head. “Not a chance. We’ll have to reheat it.”

“Come on, give them a chance.”

“Tell you what, if they manage it, I’ll eat my hat.”

That made her pause. She realized, with a spark of curiosity, that she’d never actually seen him without it.

“Can I see your hat?” she asked.

He blinked, surprised, but nodded and handed it to her.

The worn green baseball cap felt rough in her hands. The front bore an embroidered gold number 8, with a tiny winged fairy - naked except for the cross of the number - holding a fighter jet against her chest.

“Is this your squadron emblem?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. Eighth Squadron. We were nicknamed the Comfort Fairies.”

Mele’s laugh was soft and musical. “Comfort Fairies? What kind of name is that?”

He grinned. “A soldier on the ground came up with it. Said whenever we flew overhead, he felt comforted - like we were fairies spreading pixie dust instead of bullets. The name stuck.”

“Huh.” She turned the hat over in her hands, smiling faintly before giving it back. “I like it.”

He smiled. “Good. Because I wasn’t going to stop wearing it if you didn’t.”

Her laughter filled the room - bright, pure, and alive in a way it hadn’t been for weeks.

“I thought you’d say that,” she said.

Then she sighed, content. “I’m excited.”

He tilted his head. “Excited?”

She nodded, her eyes warm.
“Yeah. I’m looking forward to so many things.” She smiled up at him, the soft light catching her face. “And I’m excited that I get to do all of them with you.”

Fali’s chest tightened, warmth spilling through him like sunlight through glass.

For the first time in what felt like forever, everything - the air, the house, the world - felt right again.