The driver pulls away from the hotel, the sound of tires on wet pavement too loud in the quiet of the car. Graham sits beside me, not too close, not too far. He hasn’t tried to touch me. Hasn’t asked questions. He just lets the silence exist, which somehow feels kinder than anything he could say.
I feel almost bare. Even though I am in Julian's dress and the cashmere jacket, I can feel the fabric caress my body every time I breathe. The silk against my skin, the way it hugs me in all the places I don’t feel like myself right now. It feels wrong to be this dressed up when my mother is lying in a hospital bed.
I clutch my phone in my lap like it’s the only solid thing in the world.
Em had sounded… broken.
“I left her for five minutes. Just five.”
A few minutes is all it takes, and it's a exhausting reality to live with constantly.
Graham glances over once, quietly, like he’s checking to see if I’m still here.
“I’ll stay as long as you need,” he says gently. “You don’t have to be alone.”
I nod, because if I try to speak, I think I might shatter. And this night feels like it is about too much to handle.
The hospital lights are blinding when we pull up. White and too bright and cruelly normal. I’m already opening the door before the driver finishes stopping.
“Lucy,” Graham says gently, but I’m already out of the car, my heels clicking too fast on the pavement as I hurry inside.
The smell hits me first.
Antiseptic. Plastic. And something that distinctly reminds me of fear.
Emily is at the nurses’ station when I spot her, curled in on herself like she’s trying to disappear into herself. Her hair is pulled back messily, eyes red, face blotchy. It looks like she is still in her pyjamas from earlier today.
“Em,” I breathe.
She looks up, and the moment she sees me, she breaks. She’s in my arms in seconds, shaking, sobbing into my shoulder like she’s twelve again and scraped her knee.
“They won’t tell me anything,” she chokes. “They keep saying they need the power of attorney, they need someone who can make decisions...”
“I’m here,” I whisper, gripping her tight. “I’ve got it. I’m here.”
Her hands slip beneath the coat and clutch my back. “She was fine. I swear she was fine. I studied, she read, she even made us tea. I just went to shower before I started dinner, and when I came back...” Her breath stutters. “She was on the floor. I couldn’t wake her up.”
Guilt slices through me so sharply it steals my air.
I left her.
I left her for a gala, candlelight, a dress, and a man who couldn’t even see me when it mattered.
“I’m here now,” I say, forcing steadiness into my voice. “We’ll figure this out together.”
Emily nods weakly, but she’s shivering. I don’t even think about it before slipping my coat off and wrapping it around her.
It’s absurd. Luxurious. Completely out of place.
But it’s warm.
“There,” I murmur. “Okay?”
She gives a watery laugh. “Wow. This is a bouji jacket. Very on brand for tonight.”
I almost smile.
I turn toward the nurses’ desk just as Graham comes up behind us, quiet as a shadow.
