Hunter's fingers twitched first.
It was barely noticeable—just a slight curl, a tremor against the white sheet—but Jay saw it immediately.
She straightened. "Lia."
Lia was already moving.
The monitors picked up the change a second later. A soft, steady beep shifted rhythm. The nurse at the desk looked up, then froze.
"Wait," someone whispered. "Did he just—"
Hunter's lashes fluttered.
Once. Twice.
The room went completely still.
Jay didn't step forward. She stayed exactly where she was, spine straight, hands loosely clasped together. The smell of antiseptic still hung heavy in the air, faint metallic traces lingering underneath.
Everyone in that room already knew—about the blood, about the fear, about what it did to her.
And yet she didn't move away.
Lia leaned closer to the bed. "Hunter," she said calmly. "You're safe. Don't try to move."
His brows knit together. A low sound escaped his throat, half-confused, half-pained.
"…Lea?" he murmured.
Lia exhaled slowly. "Yeah. I'm here."
His eyes opened properly this time, unfocused at first, then slowly sharpening as he took in the lights, the machines, the crowd of faces. His gaze drifted—over Angelo, over Kairav, over unfamiliar students standing shoulder to shoulder—until it landed on Jay.
And he smiled.
Weak. Crooked. Alive.
Jay's breath hitched before she could stop it.
"You're annoying," she said, voice rough. "Do you know that?"
Hunter blinked. "Missed me too?"
A few people laughed softly, relief breaking through the tension like a crack in glass.
Keifer watched Jay closely. He saw it—the way her fingers trembled for just a second before she curled them into fists, the way her shoulders lifted and fell in a controlled breath. He didn't say anything. He just stayed close.
Lia checked Hunter's vitals again, methodical. "You're going to feel disoriented. You were under for a long time."
"How long…?" Hunter whispered.
"Twelve hours," Angelo answered from behind them.
Hunter's eyes widened slightly. "Damn."
Jay snorted. "You're lucky she's a miracle worker."
Lia shot her a look. "You're not innocent either."
That earned a few confused glances.
And that's when the questions started careful at first, then piling up.
"How did you even manage that surgery?"
"No offense, but twelve hours?"
"You two didn't even switch out"
Jay raised a hand, cutting them off.
She didn't look angry. She looked tired.
"Listen," she said. "You already know the important parts."
Some of them nodded automatically. Others swallowed.
"Yes," she continued, steady. "Blood is a problem for me. You all know that."
The room tensed.
"But knowing something," she added, eyes flicking briefly to Lia, "and letting it control you are two different things."
Lia's voice followed immediately, grounding the moment. "I operated."
Jay didn't deny it.
"She led the surgery," Lia said clearly. "I had the scalpel. Jay had the strategy."
Jay inclined her head slightly. "I gave instructions. Adjustments. Called risks before they happened."
Tiger let out a low whistle. "So basically—"
"We worked as a unit," Lia finished.
Silence.
Then slow understanding.
Jessica crossed her arms, shaking her head in disbelief. "You're insane."
Jay smirked faintly. "We know."
Someone else muttered, "That's still terrifying."
Angelo spoke up again, tone calm but firm.
"They're the best for a reason. Not because they don't have fear—but because they know how to work around it."
Ion nodded. Cindy wiped at her eyes. Alvin stared at the floor, clearly overwhelmed.
Keifer finally spoke, voice quiet. "You pushed through it."
Jay didn't answer immediately.
Then she said, honestly, "No. I didn't."
She looked at Lia.
"She carried me through it."
Lia met her gaze, unflinching. "Like always."
Hunter shifted slightly, wincing. "Am I… interrupting something emotional?"
That broke it.
Laughter burst out—real this time, loud and messy. Even the nurses smiled.
Jay stepped closer to the bed now, just a little. Not enough to crowd him. Enough to be seen.
"You scared us," she said.
Hunter's expression softened. "I wanted to see you. It was your birthday."
Her throat tightened.
"You idiot," she muttered. "You could've just texted."
He smiled again, eyes heavy. "Worth it."
Lia adjusted his blanket. "You're on strict orders now."
Hunter groaned. "From both of you?"
"Yes," Jay and Lia said together.
The room settled into something quieter after that.
No more questions. No more pushing.
Just the steady beep of machines, the proof of survival, and the unspoken understanding that whatever lived between Jay and Lia—fear, trust, history—it was powerful enough to save a life.
And everyone there knew it.