Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Maria hated that sound. It echoed in her mind, ever present, ever constant. There was no escaping it, no respite, just the rhythmic reminder that his life was ticking away.

She sat by his bedside; her wrinkled hand resting on his. His skin felt paper thin, his fingers so cold to the touch. He looked so fragile now, so helpless, his once-bronze skin pale and wan in the dim fluorescent lights.

The room smelled of antiseptic and decay, a sickly-sweet odor that clung to everything. Machines hummed and whirred, keeping him alive through a tangle of tubes and wires. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, but there was no life behind it. Only the mechanical functions of his body, pumping blood and extracting carbon dioxide like a faulty engine that wouldn’t shut down.

Maria’s eyes drifted to the holographic display hovering above the bed. Vital signs flickered and pulsed, a constant stream of data that meant nothing to her. She’d given up trying to understand the medical jargon long ago. But she didn’t need it to understand what was happening.

“Hey, old man,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. “Thought I’d drop by and see how you’re doing.”

No response, of course. There never was. But she liked to think he could hear her, somewhere deep inside that broken shell of a body.

Gently, she squeezed his hand, careful as not to disturb the IV lines.“Remember when we first met, that job in Neo-São Paulo, when everything went sideways?”

The memory flashed before her eyes, as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. The smell of gunpowder and burnt circuitry, the acrid taste of fear in her mouth. She’d been pinned down, her cover blown, certain she was about to die.

Then he‘d appeared, her chrome angel, a whirlwind of bullets and blades. A smile on his lips as he cut through their foes, and an invitation for drinks when they’d won.

“You always did like to live dangerously, my love.” A single tear trailed down her cheek as her mind wandered, lost in nostalgia.

“Remember our first date after that job in Neo-São Paulo? You took me to that little rooftop garden, overlooking the city. The lights below us looked like stars fallen to earth.”

She laughed softly, lost in the memory. “You were so nervous, fumbling with the wine bottle. But when you looked at me... Ah, Carlos, the way you looked at me. Like I was the most precious thing in the world.”

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Her thumb traced gentle circles on the back of his hand. “We’ve been through so much together. The good times, the bad. Remember when little Miguel was born? You cried more than he did.”

Her free hand absently traced the outline of her neural jack, hidden beneath her silver hair. How many times had they linked minds, sharing thoughts and memories as lovers? How many nights had they spent entwined in each other, their bodies melded into one being, their souls entangled in a bond even death could not break?

But he was still alive. Barely. His mind trapped in a prison of his own making, his consciousness trapped in the net. The last connection he’d made before the bullet shattered his spine...

She rested her head on his chest, listening to his slow, steady heartbeat. She stayed like that for a long time, holding his hand, remembering the past, and longing for the future that would never be.

“I miss you, mi amor,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the constant beeping of the machines. “I miss you so much...”

Maria sat up, wiping away a stray tear. Her gaze lingered on Carlos’s face, memorizing every line and wrinkle. She reached out, gently tracing the scar that ran along his jawline—a souvenir from their early days together.

“You know, Miguel called yesterday. They have finally found a donor for Javier.“ Another tear rolled down her cheek and landed on his knuckles, leaving a damp spot on his pale skin. “Seems like just yesterday he was but a baby crawling around our feet. And now he is already a big brother himself, at the school, preparing for his first summer camp. Starting to plan his future. A whole life ahead of him.“

“Do you remember our promise, Carlos? The one we made that night on the rooftop?” She closed her eyes, trying to hold on to that memory. “We swore we’d always have each other’s backs, no matter what. That we’d face every challenge together, side by side.”

The holographic display continued to beep and flicker, the constant stream of vital signs undisturbed.

“I know you’d tell me I’m being foolish. That I should let it go, focus on our family, on the life we’ve built.” She kissed his knuckles lightly, her lips lingering on his cold flesh. “But you know me, mi amor. I’ve never been good at walking away from a fight.“

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I wish... I wish things could be different. That we could grow old together, watching our grandchildren play in the backyard. But life rarely gives us what we want, does it?”

She leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear. “We found her, Carlos. After all these years, we finally found Her. And I promise you, I’ll make things right. For us. For everyone we lost.”

Maria sat back, her eyes never leaving her husband’s face. She memorized every wrinkle, every scar, every silver hair. In her mind’s eye, she saw him as he once was—young, vibrant, full of life and laughter. The man she’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

For a moment, her resolve faltered, doubt creeping in. But then the anger returned, burning bright, pushing back the fear and uncertainty.

“I have to go now, my love. But know that you’re always with me. In here.” She tapped her chest, right over her heart. “And in here.” Her fingers brushed against her neural jack.

Standing slowly, her joints protesting the movement, she bent down and placed a gentle kiss on Carlos’s forehead. Tears glistened in her eyes as she stroked his cheek, refracting the weak blue light in the hospital room. “Te amo, mi corazón. Siempre y para siempre.“

She walked to the door, pausing for a moment in the doorway. Turning, she looked back at the man who had been her partner, her lover, her best friend for so many years.

“Nos vemos pronto,” she whispered.

The silence that answered her was deafening.