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“There!” Maliah exclaimed. “That’s what he did.”

“I saw it,” the nurse said with a smile.

My eyes immediately filled with tears. She continued assessing him as she explained that he was beginning to respond because the anesthesia and sedation were starting to wear off. She warned us that waking up could happen gradually and that he might be confused or drift in and out for a while. I heard her, but my attention had already returned to my husband.

“Take your time, baby,” I whispered. “We’re right here.”

His eyelids fluttered, and I stopped breathing.

Maliah tightened her hold on his hand while I moved closer to the bed. Malik’s eyelids moved again before slowly opening, only to close almost immediately.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

Seeing that tiny bit of movement did something to me that hearing he had survived surgery hadn’t been able to do. The doctor had told me Malik was alive. I had stood beside his bed and watched his chest rise and fall. I had listened to the machines confirming his heart was still beating. But I needed him. I needed to see those eyes look back at me. His eyelids slowly opened again. This time, they stayed that way.

His gaze was unfocused at first. His eyes were moving without seeming to settle on anything. I wanted to touch him everywhere at once, to kiss his face and tell him how badly he had scared me, but I stayed beside him and let him come around at his own pace.

“Hey,” I whispered.

His eyes moved toward the sound of my voice. It took a few seconds before they finally settled on me. My hand flew to my mouth. There he was. My fucking husband. I smiled through the tears that immediately spilled down my cheeks and leaned closer.

“Hey, baby.”

Malik stared at me, still looking dazed. His lips parted as if he was trying to speak, but nothing came out. The nurse warned him not to strain himself and explained that his throat would be dry and irritated. I reached for his hand.

“You don’t have to talk. I’m right here.”

His eyes stayed on me for another moment before slowly moving around the room. I knew what he was doing. I knew before his lips moved.

“M…” His voice was barely more than air.

“What, baby?” I asked as I leaned closer.

He swallowed and immediately grimaced.

“Mali…”

My heart cracked. I looked across the bed, and Maliah was already crying.

“I’m right here, Daddy.”

Malik’s eyes shifted toward her.

The second he saw her, something changed in his face. His brow relaxed, and his eyes closed briefly, like the sight of his daughter standing there had allowed him to release something he’d been holding onto since before those bullets tore through his body. Maliah leaned closer while still holding his hand.

“I’m okay. You hear me? I’m okay.”

His eyes opened again. He looked her over as much as he could from where he lay, and Maliah nodded as though she understood exactly what he needed to know.

“I didn’t get shot. I’m fine.”

A tear slid from the corner of Malik’s eye. I wiped it away before it could reach his ear.

“You protected her,” I whispered. “She’s okay because you protected her.”

Malik stared at Maliah for another few seconds before his eyes moved back to me.

That was when I lost it. I had been trying so hard to keep myself together since the phone call. I had walked into that hospital without knowing if my husband was dead or alive. I had sat through hours of surgery, listened to a doctor explain his injuries, and stood beside this bed looking at more machines and wires than I ever wanted to see connected to the man I loved. Through all of it, I kept telling myself that I had to stay strong. For my children, for Malik, and for myself.