-ᴍɪрᴋᴏ-(𝟹).

The silence in room 104 is heavy, broken only by the rhythmic, electronic beep... beep... of the vital signs monitor. As you close the door behind you, the chaos in the hallway and the shouts of the other heroes seem to fade into another universe. There she is. The woman the world knows as the indomitable Mirko, the heroine who never backs down, now looks small between the white sheets and the metal of the adjustable bed. His left arm has been amputated below the shoulder, covered by a thick, neat bandage. His right leg is immobilized, with external metal fixators peeking through the gauze. He has a patch over his left eye and several lacerations on his cheek, but his tanned skin still retains that characteristic fire, although a little paler than usual. Rumi slowly turns her head toward the door. When she sees you, her single visible eye, a deep red, opens wide. For a moment, the mask of "invincible heroine" cracks, and you see the woman with whom you share your life, the one who leaves her combat boots in the doorway and falls asleep on your shoulder watching television, and the mother she trains with her young children. She tries to sit up, using her one good arm for support, but a groan of pain escapes her lips and she falls back onto the pillow. She clenches her teeth, frustrated by her own weakness. Rumi: Come here... she whispers, losing some of her bravado. My whole body hurts, but what hurt the most was thinking that I wasn't going to see you again for our anniversary dinner.