I rubbed my hands together beneath my coat. Even with the hospital’s heaters humming, a coldness clung to my skin, refusing to let me feel settled.
We had all been at the hospital for two days. I sat on a chair in the corridor, not far from Mama Nadine’s room. Tsabinu had gone to fetch us something warm to drink, while Zioh and Zeraiah stayed inside the room with their mother.
I remembered how Mama Nadine screamed, short and sudden, the sound echoing—as if she’d been dragged out of a nightmare, and it had begun on Christmas morning. After that, her constant shouting kept us awake, piercing and relentless.
We had all slept together in the hallway outside her bedroom, laying thick carpets on the floor. Tsabinu, Zeraiah, and I stayed there, while Zioh never once left his mother’s side.
Zeraiah had always trembled with fear. I often found myself and Tsabinu soothing him whenever Zioh, Grandpa Ethan, and Grandma Morag were inside with Mama Nadine.
When we’d decided to take Mama Nadine to the hospital, I could hardly recognise her. I remembered the freeze in my body when I first saw her state after days of locking herself in her room. Panic had twisted all our faces when the security guard carried Mama Nadine to the car.
Her face had been ashen, her under-eyes dark, and her cheeks covered in dried tear trails. Her lips were dry, drained of color; her eyes remained open, staring into nothing. The image burned into my mind, lingering even behind myclosed eyelids. It had only been a week since I’d last seen her, yet she had withered into ruin.
Not only that, but Mama Nadine had gasped for breath, clutching her chest, her mouth open in silent cries. While they took her to the hospital, Tsabinu and I waited at home long into the night. I clung to my brother, sobbing so hard that my body shook against his shoulder.
When we finally decided to follow, I ran through the hospital, searching for Zioh. When I found him, he was standing alone, trembling and pale, as if his heart could no longer pump blood through his veins. When he saw me, he pulled me into his arms and cried. His body shook, his breath came hard, and a pained sound escaped him. That was the first time I had ever seen Zioh cry. The first time we wept together in grief.
Grandpa Ethan and Grandma Morag had also been in pieces for two days now. And I had caught Grandpa Ethan yelling on the phone more than once or snapping at staff and anyone near him.
But no one gave me answers.
I didn’t even know if Tsabinu understood more than I did. He only kept calming me, as Grandma Morag had done the first day. She’d told me Mama Nadine had given blood for testing and would undergo more examinations. She urged us to go home, but none of us left.
We spent the nights in the waiting room, and Grandpa Ethan’s staff brought our belongings over.
This floor had only two rooms—Mama Nadine’s and an empty one where we used to rest. Grandpa Ethan’s staff were stationed nearby, ready if we needed something.
We stayed.
For Mama Nadine.
For Zioh and Zeraiah.
Because… they only had their grandparents.
I didn’t understand why Uncle Bakti or Mas Zaeem hadn’t come. Zeraiah once hinted that Mas Zaeem wouldarrive soon, though he’d be delayed. But whenever I asked about Uncle Bakti, Zeraiah would fall silent; his face told me never to press further.
Earlier, I had peeked in on Mama Nadine as she slept, but I hadn’t lasted long in the room. Something about her seemed different, altered in ways I couldn’t place, and I had to step out again.
Lost in thought, I kept staring at my feet until the door opened. Zioh stepped out, his shoulders slumped, with each step weighed down, hood pulled over his head, cream trousers nearly brushing his shoes. His face was pale and weary, yet he still gave me a small smile.
He walked over and sat beside me. His tired, gentle eyes met mine. “You should go home and rest,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, brushing my hair with a tender gesture. “I’ll ask the chauffeurto take you.”
I looked up at him. His body seemed drained of strength, and all I wanted was to ease his burdens—to massage his shoulders, give him anything to make him feel better.
I shook my head. “No… I want to stay here.” My voice wavered. “I promise I won’t be a bother, Zi.” Truly. I couldn’t leave them all like this. I wanted to help—anything.
He exhaled a slow breath, his eyes steady on mine. “I’m not asking you to go home because I think you’re a bother, Sophie,” he said. “I just don’t want you exhausted here as well.”
Swallowing hard, I shifted in my seat. “I can help, Zi.Really.”
He nodded, and the voice that slipped from his lips eased the storm churning within me. “You’ve already helped more than you realise.”
But not enough.
You were still in pain.
How could I take that pain away from him?
