When she got back home from buying her plane ticket to Paris, Claire went to her room to check her phone, which she had left charging. Her lock-screen showed a message from Matt saying "I'm on my way." Before she could reply, the sound of a crash diverted her attention. She looked out from her window and her heart skipped a beat when she saw a blue Toyota exactly like Matt's crashed with a taxi. No, was all she could think of. Please, don't let it be him.

She grabbed her phone and went downstairs as fast as she could. When she got to the place of the accident, the sound of police and ambulance sirens filled her ears. The paramedics rescued both victims from their vehicles and, unfortunately, Claire spotted a blonde lock of hair, from the same familiar shade she knew so well.

"No!" She screamed. "Matt!"

She tried with every bit of her strength to get pass the barrier of police officers, but she failed.

"Please," she begged, "it's my boyfriend who you are getting inside that ambulance, let me through."

The officers ignored her. Despite all the noise, Claire was able to hear someone calling her name. It was her mother.

"Mom!" She shouted back. In a few seconds her mother was right by her side.

"Honey, what happened? Why are you crying?"

"It's Matt," she cried, "he's the one of the accident. We have to go to the hospital."

"Are you sure it's him?"

She nodded nervously.

"Lets get the car."

They walked to the parking lot and started going.

The rain, now more intense, just made things worse for Claire. The way to the hospital was the longest and most painful one for her, and the gray in the sky reflected how she felt in that moment.

By the time they arrived to Emergencies, she had calmed herself down enough to speak.

"Matthew Bennett, please," she told the nurse that was on shift at the reception.

"Are you family or acquaintance?"

"Girlfriend," her voice was barely a whisper.

"What's your name, miss?"

"Claire Williams."

"Miss Williams, he just got in to surgery and I can't do anything for you besides telling you to wait for his diagnose in Room A, at the end of this hall."

Claire tried to give her a polite smile, "thank you."

She followed the directions the nurse had given her with her mother and they walked towards the waiting room. Her crying wouldn't stop, even though it was silent; it reached the point where she was so overwhelmed she didn't even register when her tears streamed down her face.

Matthew's face was printed in the back of her eyelids and every time she closed her eyes she saw his blonde hair and his blue eyes with hints of green and gray.

He didn't deserve that. Her didn't deserve to suffer being so young, and much less die. He had so much potential. Claire was fascinated with the fact that he took care of the family business since he was sixteen, after his parents died in a plane crash. As only child, he was the heir of the company, and they trusted him with the main franchise in New York.

The amount of respect and admiration she had for him grew everyday. He was kind, sweet, comprehensive, funny, talented. He was everything Claire could've ever asked for and more. The way he was willing to let her go to Paris just because he wanted to see her happy, no matter how much it might hurt him, amazed Claire. And in that moment he was at the other side of the operations room, between life and death, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Hours and hours passed, until a group of doctors entered the room.

"Is there anyone here for Matthew Bennett?" Asked one of them.

Claire stood right up.

"Me," her voice was firmer than what she had expected.

"Come with me, miss," gestured the same doctor.

Claire waived her mother and got out of the waiting room to the hall.

"He's stable," said the doctor. Claire felt the air coming back to her lungs. "We managed to stop the bleeding and his vitals are improving, but he hasn't recovered consciousness. At the moment, he's in a state of coma. He suffered a major trauma in his head because of the impact, and we can't really tell you when he will wake up."

Claire felt a knot form in her throat. He wasn't safe and sound, but he was alive, and that was all that mattered.

"Thank you for saving him. If he didn't make it..." She couldn't finish the sentence.

"It's our job," the doctor smiled. "He's a fighter. Maybe he'll wake up before you expect. Don't lose hope."

"When can I see him?" She asked.

"Right now, if you like. He's in room 335. Follow me," he gestured her and she walked behind him. They went upstairs and took a turn to the right, the last room in the hall marked 335.

"All yours," indicated the doctor and with a light nod he turned around and went to another room in the same hall.

Taking a deep breath, Claire opened the door, not knowing what to expect on the other side. There he was, laying peacefully on his bed, with his eyes closed and his head wrapped in bandages. She took the chair that was on the right side of the room and placed it near the bed.

She scanned for a few seconds Matthew's face, detailing the bruises as scratches that covered his skin. She felt as if a stone fell on her stomach when she thought about the pain that most be flowing through his body. She remembered that sometimes, people in coma can hear their surroundings, but Claire was mute. Nothing came out of her mouth. She preferred to plant a kiss on his forehead and lean her head lightly in his shoulder, letting her tears spill in the covers.

She repeated this routine for weeks, until the day she had to leave to Paris arrived. Matthew was still in a coma, and Claire visited him one last time.

Every time she looked at him, it was like mourning. She felt the same grief as when her father, a soldier, died in the field when she was twelve. It was the same pain, but with no funeral.

Her whole body felt weak, and she knew that if she had to break at some point, that was it.

She knew saying goodbye wasn't going to be easy, but she never pictured it that way.

"Matt, the day we feared has come," she started, "the difference is that you won't have to see me go, and I'm not going to see your face when I'm about to get on the plane. But I'd rather have anything but this," she bit her lower lip to hold her composure. "I wish I could hug you, but like this I don't even know if you can listen to me. I tried to talk to you all these days, but nothing came out. I'm not as strong as you. I can't let you go. I... I just want you back and I'm not even going to be here when you wake up. You are one of the most important persons for me and I feel like I'm failing you. You're always there when I need you, and I feel so powerless, because I can't help you, I don't know what to do. All I know for sure is that I love you, and I always will."

And with those last words, her spirit crumbled. Every last bit of her strength was drained, and she let the feeling take over her body.

After what felt like hours, but very likely were just a few minutes, someone knocked on the door. Wiping her face, Claire stood up from the chair and opened up. It was the nurse that was on the reception the day Matthew had been hospitalized.

"Hello, miss Williams, I hope I'm not interrupting anything. But I hadn't had the chance to give you this," she extended her hand with a little silver box with a note that read "For Claire," and gave it to her. "It was among his belongings in his car, and I guessed you'd like to have it."

Claire smiled when she saw the present. "Thank you," she said. The nurse nodded and left the room.

Inside the box there was a silver locket in the shape of a heart, and when she opened she saw a family picture in one side, and a picture with Matthew in the other. She put it on and felt the cold, smooth surface of the silver material. For the first time in a long time, she cried of tears of joy.

"You were always so good at gifts," she said leaning closer to him, "this way, I can always keep you close, no matter how many miles separate us. I can have you always by my heart." She gave her one last kiss on his forehead and whispered the most honest "thank you" she had said in her life.