Chapter 166: Chapter 166

The city moved around them in a blur of muted colors — cyclists gliding by, early shopkeepers unlocking their doors, buses hissing to a stop. Inside the car, though, it was still.

The quiet between Billy and Artur wasn’t empty — it was full of unspoken thoughts, of glances and small gestures that spoke louder than words.

Billy kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on his thigh. The radio was off. He wasn’t sure if he should fill the silence or just let it breathe.

Artur finally spoke, his voice low. "You didn’t sleep much last night."

Billy gave a small nod. "I kept thinking about the scan... and everything it might say. Or not say."

Artur looked at him, one arm stretched across the door, fingers tapping against the edge of the window. "Whatever it is, we’ll handle it. It’s just information, not a sentence."

Billy let out a breath, steadying the knot in his chest. "Yeah. I know."

They stopped at a red light. A couple crossed the street in front of them, laughing about something only they could hear. Artur watched them for a second before turning back.

"You’ve come a long way," he said quietly. "Doesn’t matter what that report says—you’re still standing."

Billy glanced sideways, caught the seriousness in Artur’s expression. He nodded once, grateful but not sure how to say it.

The light turned green.

After a moment, Artur reached out and adjusted the air vent gently toward Billy. "You always drive with the heater off?"

Billy gave a faint smile. "I guess I got used to the cold."

Artur leaned back, satisfied. "Well, not today. Today you get warm air and good company."

Billy chuckled, the first real one of the morning. "Deal."

The hospital came into view up ahead — wide glass doors, a row of parked cars, and the clean, sharp lines of a place built for answers.

Billy pulled into the parking space slowly, cut the engine, and let his hands drop into his lap.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Artur looked over. "We’re here."

Billy nodded, then turned to face him more fully. "Thanks for coming with me."

"You don’t have to thank me," Artur said simply. "This is where I want to be."

Billy opened the door and stepped out. The breeze tugged gently at his shirt. Artur came around the front of the car to join him, their steps falling in rhythm as they walked toward the entrance.

The glass doors slid open, and together, they stepped inside — not just into the hospital, but into whatever came next.

The hospital smelled faintly of antiseptic and coffee. Billy glanced up at the tall ceilings, white lights humming overhead, the floor beneath their steps echoing gently.

It wasn’t unfamiliar — he’d been here before — but it felt different today.

Maybe because Artur was walking beside him, quiet but present. That made the sterile air feel less sharp somehow.

They reached the reception desk.

"Name?" the nurse asked, glancing up from the monitor.

"Leonardo Sandoval. Appointment with Dr. Harris," he replied.

She tapped a few keys, nodded, and gestured. "Second floor, Room 201. You can take the elevator on your left."

Billy thanked her softly. As they moved toward the elevator, Artur glanced sideways. "You nervous?"

"A little," Billy admitted. "I keep wondering if they’ll say I’m clear or if there’s something still... wrong."

Artur pressed the button. "Either way, you’ll know. Not knowing—that’s the hard part."

The elevator doors slid open. Inside, they stood shoulder to shoulder.

Billy’s fingers fidgeted with the seam of his sleeve.

Artur noticed but didn’t say anything. Instead, his hand brushed lightly against Billy’s — not grabbing, just there, just enough.

When they stepped out on the second floor, the hallway felt quieter, more still. A nurse walked by with a clipboard.

Far down the corridor, a woman wheeled a child in a red jumper past a waiting room window.

Room 201 stood near the end of the hallway.

Billy stopped in front of the door.

"I can wait out here if you want," Artur offered.

Billy paused. "No. Stay."

Artur nodded once. "Alright."

The room was bright and clean. Dr. Harris was already seated at his desk, flipping through a digital file on his tablet. he looked up and smiled as they entered.

"Leon," he greeted warmly. "Good to see you again. And you brought a friend today?"

Billy glanced at Artur, a hint of a smile. "Yeah."

Dr. Harris gestured for them to sit. "Let’s get started then. First, let me say — your recent scans look good. No signs of trauma lingering in the brain. That’s excellent progress."

Billy exhaled softly. His shoulders relaxed a little. "That’s... really good to hear."

A sudden warmth bloomed in Billy’s chest—like someone had lifted a weight he hadn’t realized he was still carrying. For the first time in weeks, his lungs felt full when he breathed in.

"There’s still some minor inflammation around the old injury site," he continued, "but nothing alarming. With time, it should settle even more. I assume you’ve been sleeping better?"

"And the memory lapses? Still persistent?"

Billy hesitated. "Some things come back in pieces. But I don’t try to force it anymore. I guess... I’m learning to live with the gaps."

Dr. Harris gave an encouraging nod. "That’s the healthiest thing you can do. You’re rebuilding, and your body’s doing the same."

he slid the tablet forward so Billy could see. "You’re in the clear to do anything now, to resume your routine — whatever that may look like now."

Billy stared at the screen. The words felt real, final. Not in a frightening way — just... grounding.

"Thank you," he said, voice quiet.

When they stepped back into the hallway, Billy paused by the railing looking out over the hospital courtyard below.

Patients walked slowly along the garden paths. A nurse laughed with someone in a wheelchair. The world kept turning.

Artur stepped beside him.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

Billy nodded, slowly. "I think I’m ready."

Artur looked at him for a beat. "Ready to go back?"

Billy turned toward him. "Ready to live forward."

The key turned in the lock with a soft click.as they step into the apartment.

Billy pushed the door open slowly, stepping inside his apartment for the first time in weeks.

The air smelled faintly of dust and pinewood cleaner.

The curtains hung just as he’d left them—one side tugged back, amber light slipping in. The stillness felt untouched.

Artur followed in behind, eyes sweeping the space with a quiet curiosity.

A few books lined the shelf, a light grey throw tossed casually over the couch, two half-burnt candles near the windowsill.

Billy dropped his bag gently by the door. "It feels strange... being back here."

Artur closed the door behind them. "It’s quiet," he said.

Billy offered a faint smile. "Too quiet."

For a moment they just stood there — the city hum outside their only soundtrack.

Then Billy walked over and opened the curtains wider, letting more light spill in. The room warmed instantly.

Artur walked in slowly, stopping near the coffee table. "This is where you lived? Before all of it?"

Billy nodded. "Yeah. This was my little corner of the world." He turned toward him. "I don’t know if it ever felt like home... but I was safe here."

Artur glanced around again. "It feels like you."

Billy walked to the couch and sat down, resting his back against the cushions.

His head tilted slightly, eyes soft, reflecting something unspoken. "We’ll leave tomorrow," he said.

Artur joined him. "Are you ready?"

"I’m not sure," Billy admitted. "But it feels right to go back."

Artur looked at him, his expression unreadable for a moment. "Back to Mr Dand... and the fields... and morning tea on that cracked porch."

Billy laughed softly. "You make it sound like a fairytale."

"It was far from perfect," Artur said. "But... it was ours."

A silence fell between them again, not heavy — just present.

Then Billy shifted, resting his head gently against Artur’s shoulder.

The touch was soft, easy, like they’d done it a thousand times.

Artur didn’t move. Just let his chin rest against Billy’s hair.

"Thank you," Billy whispered.

"For coming with me today. For not leaving me alone in that room. For staying even when you didn’t have to."

Artur’s voice was low. "I never wanted to leave."

Billy turned to look up at him. "I’m scared sometimes. That this might not last... that I might wake up and forget again. You. Us. The village."

Artur looked into his eyes. "If that ever happens, I’ll remind you. Every day, if I have to."

Billy smiled. It was small and soft, and this time, didn’t feel fragile.

Outside, the city buzzed on.

But here, inside these four quiet walls, there was only the low hum of evening, two warm shadows on the couch, and a kind of peace they’d both fought hard to earn.

Billy leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Artur’s cheek.

"Let’s stay here tonight," he said, "no talking about tomorrow. Just us. Just now."

Artur nodded once, pulled him closer. "Just now."

And maybe, just maybe, this was what living forward looked like—one quiet night, one warm breath at a time.

Later that night, the apartment had grown quieter, gentler.