Chapter 6: The Journey Begins

Amara stood at the hospital's entrance, a small backpack slung over her shoulder, clutching the list of her dreams. Lysander had gone inside to complete the discharge formalities, leaving her with a moment of quiet. As she looked out at the world beyond the hospital gates, her heart raced. It was a mix of excitement and fear.

Lysander returned, his face alight with determination. "Alright, my lady," he said, bowing playfully. "Your carriage awaits."

Amara couldn't help but laugh at his antics. "You really think you're charming, don't you?"

"Think? I know it," he quipped, opening the car door for her. "Now, shall we?"

As they pulled out of the hospital driveway, Amara looked back one last time. That building had been her reality for so long—a place of pain, hope, and now, bittersweet memories. She turned to Lysander, her smile soft but full of resolve. "Let's do this."

---

Their first destination was Amara's grandmother's village, where she had spent her childhood. Amara had always wanted to return, to relive the warmth of those carefree days. The drive was long, but neither of them minded. The car was filled with laughter, stories, and shared silences that spoke louder than words.

By the time they reached the village, it was late evening. The familiar sights brought a rush of emotions to Amara. She guided Lysander to her grandmother's house, but her excitement faltered when she saw the door closed, the windows dark.

Lysander noticed her hesitation. "What's wrong?"

Amara knocked on the door, her heart pounding. When a neighbor answered, the news hit her like a blow: her grandmother had passed away a few months ago. Her parents hadn't told her, not wanting to burden her further.

Tears streamed down her face as she absorbed the loss. Lysander stood by her, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Amara," he whispered.

"I wanted to see her one last time," Amara said, her voice trembling.

"She's with you," Lysander said softly. "In your memories, in the stories you've told me about her. And I'm sure she'd be so proud of you."

Amara nodded, wiping her tears. She turned to him with a determined look. "Can we visit the old hill near the village? I used to watch sunsets there with her."

---

The hill was as she remembered—peaceful and untouched, with a panoramic view of the horizon. They sat together on a blanket Lysander had brought, watching as the sun dipped below the hills, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.

"It's beautiful," Amara said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Not as beautiful as the way you light up when you're happy," Lysander replied.

Amara looked at him, her heart swelling with gratitude. "You know, Lysander, for someone who claims he didn't want to live, you're awfully good at making life feel worthwhile."

He smiled, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "That's because you've shown me how. You've given me a reason."

---

As night fell, Lysander suggested they go for a drive to clear their minds. They talked for hours, the weight of their earlier emotions slowly lifting. At one point, Amara fell asleep, her head resting on Lysander's shoulder.

He slowed the car, driving carefully so as not to disturb her. The warmth of her presence, even in silence, was enough to keep him going.

---

When Amara woke the next morning, she was greeted by a breathtaking sight: snow-covered fields stretching as far as the eye could see. She gasped in surprise, her face lighting up with childlike joy.

"How did you know?" she asked, turning to Lysander.

He grinned. "I pay attention. And I'm your Santa, remember?"

Amara laughed, throwing her arms around him. "You're unbelievable."

The two of them stepped out of the car, and Amara ran into the snow, her laughter echoing in the crisp morning air. Lysander watched her, his heart full.

---

Later that evening, they arrived at a town hosting a snow festival. Amara's eyes sparkled as they walked through the bustling streets, taking in the lights, the music, and the cheerful atmosphere.

"Lysander," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "This is perfect."

"Nothing but the best for you," he replied, taking her hand.

As they watched the fireworks light up the night sky, Amara leaned her head on Lysander's shoulder. For the first time in a long while, she felt truly at peace.

And for Lysander, the sight of her happiness was worth every sacrifice he had made—and would continue to make—for her.