Chapter 3

***A Fragile Hope***

White. Everything is white.

Lucia's eyes open. Slowly. Painfully. The light burns.

Beeping machines. Footsteps. The smell of antiseptic.

Hospital.

Her body screams. Every part hurts. She tries to move. Can't. Too weak.

A face appears. A man. Dark hair. Kind eyes. Familiar.

"You're awake." His voice is soft. Relieved.

Lucia's throat is dry. She tries to speak. Nothing.

"Don't talk yet." The man holds a straw to her lips. "Small sips."

The water hurts but she drinks. Her throat loosens.

"Who are you?"

The man sits back. Smiles. Sad but warm.

"Adrian. We went to high school together."

High school. Before everything. Before Marco. Before it all fell apart.

Lucia studies his face. Searches her broken memory. Then. There. A quiet boy in the library. Always studying. Always alone.

"Adrian." She remembers. "Chemistry class."

"You tutored me. When I was failing." His smile grows. "You helped for free."

She did. Every Tuesday. He couldn't afford a real tutor.

"That was years ago."

"Fifteen years." Adrian nods. "A lot has changed."

Lucia looks around. Not a regular hospital room. Too nice. Too private. Flowers everywhere.

"Where am I?"

"Private hospital. My hospital." Adrian leans forward. "My convoy found you. Outside that hotel. You were bleeding. Barely breathing."

The hotel. The men. The guns. Sandra's regards.

"I should be dead."

"You almost were." Adrian's face goes serious. "The bullets missed vital organs. Barely."

"How long?"

"Three days. Surgery. Sedation. The doctors weren't sure you'd wake up."

Three days since her life ended. Since Sandra won.

Tears fall. Lucia can't stop them. Silent. Heavy.

"You're safe now." Adrian's voice is gentle. "I promise."

Safe. She hasn't been safe in so long.

The door opens. A small boy runs in. Maybe four or five. Dark curly hair. Big brown eyes.

"Papa!" He runs to Adrian. "Is the pretty lady awake?"

Adrian catches him. Lifts him. "She is. But we need to be quiet."

The boy peers at Lucia. Curious. Not scared.

"Hi pretty lady." His voice is sweet. "I'm Luis."

Lucia tries to smile. Her face feels wrong.

"Hi Luis."

"I brought you flowers." Luis points to a vase. Yellow daisies. "Papa said flowers make people feel better."

"They're beautiful."

Luis walks to the bed. Pulls out a drawing. Crayon on paper. Messy but sweet.

"I made this for you." He holds it up. "It's a rainbow. Because rainbows come after storms."

The tears come harder. Lucia takes the drawing. Her hands shake.

"Thank you. It's perfect."

Luis beams. So proud. So happy.

Adrian puts his hand on his son's shoulder. "Let's let her rest now."

"Okay Papa." Luis waves. "Bye pretty lady. Get better soon."

They leave. Lucia is alone.

But the drawing sits on her lap. The daisies bloom on the table.

And for the first time since everything shattered, she feels something other than pain.

Hope. Tiny. Fragile. Barely there.

But hope.

Days pass. Lucia heals. Her body mends. The wounds close. The bruises fade.

But inside she's still broken.

Adrian visits every day. Sometimes with Luis. Sometimes alone. He never asks questions. Never pushes. Just sits. Talks about small things.

It helps. More than medicine. His presence helps.

One week later the doctors release her. She has nowhere to go.

Adrian solves it.

"Come stay at my house." Simple. Easy. "Until you figure things out."

"I can't. I can't be a burden."

"You're not a burden." Adrian's voice is firm. "You helped me when no one else would. Now it's my turn."

His turn. Like he's been waiting fifteen years.

"I don't deserve help."

"Stop." Adrian looks her in the eyes. "Stop apologizing for existing. You're allowed to take up space."

The words hit hard. True hard.

She's been apologizing her whole life. To Marco. To Sandra. To her parents. To everyone.

Maybe she can stop.

Adrian's mansion is huge. More rooms than she can count. Gardens that go on forever.

Luis gives her a tour. Holds her hand. Shows her everything.

"This is my room." He opens a door. Toys everywhere. Drawings on the walls. "And that one is yours."

He points across the hall. Lucia opens it.

The room is beautiful. Soft colors. Big bed. Windows overlooking the garden.

"Do you like it?" Luis asks. Worried.

"I love it."

Days turn into weeks. Lucia stays. Heals. Starts to remember what normal feels like.

But she's different now. Jumps at sudden noises. Flinches when people move too fast. Can't sleep without nightmares.

Adrian notices. But he doesn't push. Just adjusts. Warns her before entering rooms. Knocks softly. Moves slow.

Luis helps too. Brings her drawings every day. Stories about his day. Asks her to play.

One morning she finds him in the kitchen. Drawing at the table. Crayons everywhere.

"What are you making?" She sits beside him.

"A family." Luis doesn't look up. "See? That's Papa. That's me."

He points to two stick figures. One tall. One small.

Then he adds another. Long hair. Dress. Smile.

"And that's you." Luis looks up. Grins. "This is us."

Us. Like she belongs.

Lucia's throat closes. Can't speak.

Luis tilts his head. "You don't like it?"

"No." She forces the words out. "I love it. I love it so much."

He hands it to her. "You can keep it. To remember you're not alone."

Not alone.

She smiles. Really smiles. Not forced. Not fake. Real.

Her face feels strange. But good strange.

Luis claps. "You smiled! Papa, she smiled!"

Adrian appears in the doorway. Coffee in hand. He sees her face. Sees the drawing. Sees his son beaming.

Something crosses his face. Soft. Warm.

"About time." He says it light. Teasing. But his eyes are serious. Proud.

That night Adrian knocks on her door.

"Can I come in?"

"Yes."

He sits in the chair by the window. Looks out at the garden. The moon is full.

"I want to help you." He says it quiet. Careful. "Really help you. Not just with a place to stay."

"You've already helped so much."

"I mean with work. With building a life." Adrian turns to face her. "I have contacts. Business partners. I can introduce you. Help you start over."

Start over. The words sound impossible.

"I don't know anything about business."

"You're smart. You went to university. Got a degree." Adrian leans forward. "You just forgot. Buried it under years of being told you're nothing."

Nothing. Marco said so. Sandra proved it. Her parents agreed.

"What if I fail?"

"Then you fail." Adrian shrugs. "And you try again. That's how life works."

"I'm scared."

"Being scared means you care. Means you're alive." His voice is steady. Strong. "And you are alive, Lucia. Despite everything. You survived."

Survived. She did. Barely. But she did.

"I don't know if I can."

"You can." Adrian stands. Walks to the door. Stops. "You helped me pass chemistry when I thought I'd drop out. You believed in me when no one else did. Now I believe in you."

He leaves. Door clicks shut.

Lucia sits in the quiet. Holds Luis's drawing. Studies the three stick figures. The family.

Maybe she can start again. Maybe it's not too late. Maybe there's still a chance.

The maybe hurts. Burns. Terrifies her.

But it's there. Glowing soft in her chest. Fragile but real.

She whispers to the empty room. To herself. To the universe.

"Maybe I can start again."

The words float away. Disappear into the night.

But they leave something behind. Something small. Something precious.

Hope.