|The battlefield had been chaotic. Though the Winx and Specialists had triumphed, Brandon hadn’t escaped unscathed. He’d taken a hit during the fight—nothing life-threatening, but enough to make your heart stop when you saw him stumble.

Now, back at Alfea, you sat by his side in a quiet room lit by the soft glow of moonlight. Brandon lay propped up on a bed, his shirt removed to reveal a bandaged wound on his side. He tried to smile through the pain, but you weren’t buying it.

“Don’t you dare pretend you’re fine,” you scolded, dipping a cloth into a bowl of warm water. Your voice wavered slightly, betraying your worry.

“Come on,” Brandon said, his voice gentle despite the pain. “It’s just a scratch. I’ve had worse.”

You glared at him, your eyes fiery. “A scratch? You were almost knocked off a cliff! You think that’s just another day at the office?” You pressed the cloth against his forehead, a bit more forceful than necessary.

He winced, but his grin didn’t fade. “Ouch! Okay, okay, maybe it wasn’t just a scratch.”

Your expression softened, and your hand lingered on his forehead. “I was so scared,” you admitted quietly, your usual confidence giving way to vulnerability. “What if I lost you?”

Brandon reached out, his hand covering yours. “You didn’t. And you won’t. I promise.”

Your lip quivered, but you quickly composed yourself. “You better keep that promise,” you said, your voice steadying. “Because I’m not about to let you ruin all the plans I have for us.”

“Plans, huh?” Brandon teased, winking despite his fatigue. “Do these plans involve me wearing a tuxedo and you in a dazzling dress?”

You smirked, dabbing at his bandages with a gentler touch. “They might. But first, you need to survive long enough to see me in that dress.”

You both shared a quiet laugh, the tension easing just slightly. You stayed with him through the night, holding his hand and occasionally fussing over his comfort. “I am fine! I just proved myself as the best specialist,finally.”