No no no.
I’m shaking my head. But I can’t be sure.
My chest tightens. My ears start to ring. The panic that was lingering at the edge of my breath now locks around my windpipe.
I glance at Greesha. She’s frozen.
“We realized your heart suffered damage. So we checked cardiac enzymes—troponin levels were elevated. You’ve likely been living with silent myocardial scarring.”
“Stop,” I whisper with numbness. It barely leaves my lips.
The nurse continues as if she didn’t hear me. Maybe she didn’t. “When you overdosed and went into cardiac stress—the minor infarction—we think that left scar tissue.”
I close my eyes. My throat closes with them.
“...not enough to show symptoms. But yesterday, your heart was triggered into ventricular fibrillation. That’s what caused you to code during surgery.”
She’s smiling.Smiling. Like she just solved a puzzle on a game show. And I’m dying despite the fucking...scar tissue.
“But now that we know, we’ll monitor your recovery very closely.”
She touches the top of my blanket near my feet, totally blind to the horror she’s just cracked wide open.
“We haven’t contacted your family yet. Since the police were involved...” she glances briefly at Aadya, “...we wanted to wait until you were fully lucid. Do you want us to reach out to your emergency contact?”
She finally leans closer, expecting an answer. But I can barely breathe.
“Please leave,” I manage with a shake of my head.
The nurse startles. “Oh. Okay. Just let us know when you’re ready.”
I force my neck to move. She leaves. And the door closes behind her with an airless finality.
Greesha hasn’t moved. Her spine stiff, her arms locked, her eyes somewhere I can’t see. Processing. Calculating.
Dreading.
She knows now.Everything.
The overdose. The damage. The war I’ve fought that seems embarrassingly stupid now.
Her shoulders lower slightly on an exhale, but I don’t get sadness. Or pity. Or even anger.
Instead, I get the cold press of a gun barrel to my forehead within a blink of my eye. She’s hovering over me.
Her hand trembling. Herbodytrembling. Her eyes locked to mine with the kind of pain I’ve only ever seen in the movies.
“Gree—”
But I don’t finish.
Because behind the rage, behind the reflex, behind the very real weapon she’s pressed to my skull...
She’s unraveling.
And I think that means she still cares.
So I wait.
