An immense sadness tugs me back into a reality I can’t quite join yet as the drug continues to leave me paralyzed.

“Shh,” Santiago starts again, repeating those same reassuring words again and again and again. I want to ask him about the baby. I need to know. But my mind is as fuzzy as my limbs are heavy, and I drift off again to the soothing sound of his voice.

I hear lowered voices as I begin to wake. I turn my head and breathe in a familiar scent. The pillow I’m lying on is soft and warm. His. One of the voices I hear is Santiago’s. He’s talking to another man, but I don’t recognize the other voice, and I can’t make out their words.

When I finally manage to open my eyes, I see the empty pillow beside me. The armchair across the room. And I know I’m home. In Santiago’s room. In his bed.

He has his back to me. He’s standing just outside the open door, whispering to another man.

I open my mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a croaking sound. My throat is so dry. But it’s enough because Santiago turns, and our eyes meet. He hurries to me, and all I can do is reach for him, hold on to him. My fingers curl into his shoulders, the nails broken, the skin of my wrists bruised as he sits on the edge of the bed, takes my face into his hands, and just looks at me for a long, long time.

I think in the days we’ve been apart, he’s aged.

Again, I try to speak, but I can't. He puts a glass to my lips. I sip the cool water but only manage a little.

“You’re back,” he says, attempting a smile, and without warning, it’s as though a dam breaks. All the anxiety, the doubt, the fear comes pouring out of me in loud, ugly, choking sobs. He pulls my head into his chest, holding on to me. One big hand cups my head while the other rubs circles into my back.

I cling to him. I cling as if I would die without him.

“Did they...” I trail off.

He draws back, shakes his head. “No. We were in time.”

I suck in a sob. “Thank goodness.”

The door clicks as someone closes it. He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my mouth, all the while whispering that it will be all right. That I’m safe. The baby is safe. That we're home.