"We weren't friends at all," I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest to face him fully. "You made that pretty clear when you humiliated me in front of allyour real friends."
He cringes at that, "Yeah. I was... insecure and weak and a complete shithead. Still am, if we're being honest. But... I'msorry for how I treated you. You didn't deserve that. You were a good friend to me."
"It's in the past," I say with a shrug. And it is. I don't have the time or energy to dig through old wounds that have already scarred over. Not when my focus needs to be on Sophie.
"I know," he nods. "But I still needed to say it. I really am sorry."
I shrug once more because he seems to need this more than I do. "Apology accepted," I tell him.
He studies me for a long second, his eyes narrow, and his face and tone curious as he asks, "Were you...temptedat all? By Elise?"
My answer is immediate.
"Not for asecond." My voice is firm. "Not when I haveSophie."
Paul flinches, and he looks away from me like my gaze and words burned him. His face looks like he tasted something bitter, but it doesn't seem to be aimed at me.
After a long moment, he takes a deep breath and turns to the parking lot, throwing over his shoulder. "Take care of her, Callum."
"I will," I promise, not to him, but to her, to me, to the world.
Dr. Rashid is speaking with my mom when I walk back into the waiting room. She breaks into a bright smile the moment she sees me, and Dr. Rashid turns, meeting me with warm eyes.
"She's awake, and she's asking for you."
???
"Given Sophie's white blood cell count," Dr. Rashid says as we walk side-by-side down the hallway, "we've placed her inneutropenic isolation. It's a protective measure for her immune system."
I nod, but impatience coils through every muscle in my body. My feet keep wanting to speed ahead, to tear down the hall, to rip open whatever door separates me from Sophie. I force myself to listen, because I know these instructions are the difference between helping her and putting her at risk. My heart is pounding so loudly in my chest, I'm sure he can hear it.
I need to lay eyes on Sophie to confirm she's awake and breathing.
Alive.
Dr. Rashid gestures toward a sealed double-door chamber ahead—glass walls, a bright red sign readingPROTECTIVE ISOLATION – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
"You'll need to put on a gown, gloves, and a mask before entering," he explains. "This is to protecther, not you. Inside, try not to touch surfaces unnecessarily. Stay by her bedside. Keep your mask on at all times. And if you feel even slightly unwell, you must step out immediately. Understood?"
"Yeah. Yes. Absolutely." Then, because it's been ripping me apart not knowing, I ask, "Am I... am I allowed to touch her? At all?"
Dr. Rashid's entire face softens. "No kissing. No leaning your face close to hers. And you cannot climb onto the bed with her. But touching her hands or arms is absolutely encouraged." His voice gentles. "Emotional well-being iscrucialfor patients in neutropenic isolation. It can be... averyfrightening time for them. Sometimes the presence of someone they love raises their stability more than any medication I give them." He offers me a small smile. "Just be smart about it, Callum."
I nod because if this man told me to strip naked, army-crawl across the entire hospital in full view of everyone to be able to see her, I would do it without blinking. He leads us down intoa room to grab the appropriate PPE for me to wear. I scrub my hands with soap, pull on a gown, gloves, and a mask over my face, before Dr. Rashid checks me over once and gestures me toward a door.
I step into the room, and I see her.
She looks so impossibly small in that hospital bed, swallowed by layers of blankets and a tangle of wires and tubing. Dressed in a hospital gown, my sweet girl looks so pale, with dark circles under her eyes, and a sheen of sweat dampening her face. Someone placed a pink cap on her head, and I'm so thankful since I know it'll keep her warm. She always gets so cold.
Her heart monitor beeps softly and steadily, and it's one of the sweetest sounds I've ever heard.
Alive. Breathing. Still here.
Her eyes are closed as she seems to be dozing off, with a small furrow to her brow if she's in pain.
She looks so miserable, so sick...
And still—God—she steals the breath right out of my lungs.
