Chaos Palette

20.

The Eiffel Tower twinkled against the inky Parisian night sky, a silent witness to Ryle and Lilith's laughter echoing through their fancy hotel room. They'd just returned from a whirlwind boat tour on the Seine, soaked to the bone but brimming with the exhilaration of adventure.

Ryle, towel slung around his neck, haphazardly dried his hair with the hotel hairdryer. A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes as he turned the appliance off mid-blast. "Alright, I think that's enough torture for one night," he declared, a mock grimace on his face.

Lilith, perched on the luxurious bed, playfully swatted at him with a damp towel. "About time," she teased, her smile betraying her amusement. "You were starting to resemble a deranged poodle."

Ryle flopped down beside her, their laughter subsiding into a comfortable silence. He stole a glance at her, the way the soft Parisian light danced in her eyes, and a sudden seriousness washed over him.

"Lilith," he began, his voice surprisingly steady for him, "I, Ryle Wright, the king of sarcasm and certified darkness enthusiast, have come to a life-altering decision."

Lilith raised an eyebrow, a playful smile still tugging at her lips. "Do tell, Mr. Wright," she said, her voice laced with curiosity.

He met her gaze, a newfound determination etched on his face. "The surgery," he blurted out, bracing himself for her reaction. "I've made up my mind."

A flicker of surprise flitted across her features before a wave of relief washed over her. "Are you sure, Ryle?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with concern. "Absolutely positive," he replied, his tone firm despite a tremor in his heart. "I want to draw the world with you, Lilith. Not just feel it, but see it through your eyes. I want to see you, experience your beauty in all its vibrant glory."

Their eyes locked, a silent conversation passing between them. This wasn't just about regaining his sight; it was about a future shared, a world explored hand-in-hand.

"Plus, I want to see all these paintings you drew in Greece and Italy," Ryle spoke, his voice softly. He pulled Lilith into a hug before suggesting they sleep while they can, so that they don't miss their fly back home.

The next day, the flight back home was a stark contrast to their carefree Parisian adventure. Lilith fidgeted nervously in her seat.

"Hey," Ryle murmured, taking her hand in his. "Everything alright?"

Lilith squeezed his hand tightly, her voice barely a whisper. "Planes..." she admitted.

Ryle understood. He didn't bombard her with empty reassurances; he simply held her hand, a silent promise of support. Facing fears, he knew, was a journey they embarked on together, every single day.

After Lilith eased up, Ryle took off his sunglasses and smirked. "Hey, Lil," he whispered, "you know all the talk about facing our fears and living life?"

"Yes?" she replied curiously.

Ryle laughed and massaged the bridge of his nose, "I fear my mother will suffocate you with her bear hug when she finds out about the surgery tomorrow when they visit Britain."

Lilith and Ryle laughed quietly.

The days leading up to the surgery were a blur of pre-operative appointments and forced cheer. Ryle couldn't resist a sarcastic jibe during a gown fitting. "Seriously, doc," he drawled, "what are these fashion disasters? I might just cancel the whole operation."

The doctor chuckled, understanding Ryle's way of coping. But beneath the humor, a sliver of apprehension gnawed at Ryle. He kept it hidden from Lilith, but the fear of the unknown clawed at his insides.

The night before the surgery, he sat on the edge of the bed, a storm brewing behind his usual bravado. Lilith, sensing his turmoil, sat beside him, her touch a comforting anchor.

"Scared, huh?" she asked gently.

He met her gaze, his voice raw with emotion. "More than I care to admit," he confessed. "But..." he continued, squeezing her hand, "I'm facing it. For you, for us, for a future painted in color."

Lilith offered a reassuring smile, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "And I'll be here, every step of the way," she whispered, her voice filled with unwavering love.

The next morning, Ryle was prepped for surgery. As per his request, Lilith was the only one allowed in the waiting room. The sterile environment hummed with a nervous energy. As the anesthesia began to take hold, Lilith, her heart pounding in her chest, watched as Ryle drifted to sleep.

The hours stretched into an agonizing eternity for Lilith. The sterile waiting room became a prison of her own anxieties. Every beep of a machine, every flicker of a light outside the door sent a tremor through her. She clung to his last words, his raw honesty echoing in her heart: "Facing it... for you, for us, for a future painted in color."

The doctor finally emerged, his expression unreadable. Lilith shot up from her chair, her voice trembling as she spoke. "How is he?"

The doctor offered a tired smile. "The surgery itself was a success, Ms. Forbes. However, it will take some time for the anesthesia to wear off completely and for Ryle to fully wake up."

Relief washed over Lilith, a wave so powerful it left her legs weak. "Can I see him?" she asked, her voice catching.

The doctor nodded. "Of course. Just be aware, he might be confused or disoriented when he first wakes up."

Lilith nodded, as she grabbed her phone to return the missed calls of Ryle's parents to update them on his status and the surgery's success.