We shouldn’t have put his things back in the bedroom.
Like we believed he was coming home.
Like we dared to hope.
Hours pass in a blur.
We’re ushered into the room like ghosts—silent, stunned. Dad looks like he’s sleeping. Peaceful. Too peaceful.
I reach for his hand.
It’s cold.
Not just cool from the hospital air, butcold. Final. And that’s when it hits me. This isn’t a nap. There’s no soft snore or twitch of his mouth. He’s not waking up.
A single tear slips down my cheek. I blink once, twice, waiting for something in me to scream. To fall apart.
But all I can do is stare at him like if I look hard enough, he’ll start breathing again.
Dr. Kulkarni’s voice breaks through like static on a bad radio. "There was no way to know," she says. "His body... it was ready."
Ready?
I don’t know what else she says. Her lips keep moving, but the words slide right off me. All I can feel is Brooks’ hand wrapped around mine and the crushing guilt swelling in my chest.
Because we weren’t here.
We were... in each other’s arms. We turned our phones off. We shut the world out for one damn night and now… now…
I squeeze Brooks’ hand tighter. Like I can wring the memory out of it. Like I can undo what we did.
Dad was dying, and we were kissing. Touching. Laughing. His hands were on my skin. I was thinking about the way he said my name. And while I was memorizing that, my father was taking his last breath.
And now he’s gone.
We should have been there.
We should have…
But does it even matter?
No amount of should-have can bring him back.
The next part is a haze. I don’t know who drives home. Maybe Brooks. Maybe Jasper. I just know the ride is quiet, and Brooks never lets go of my hand.
When we walk inside, Mom doesn’t say a word. She floats down the hallway like a shadow, shuts her bedroom door, and we all hear it. That soft, metallicclickof the lock.
It sounds like a gunshot.
Jasper sinks onto the couch, head in his hands, his shoulders silently shaking.
I look to Brooks, but he won’t meet my eyes.
That same guilt—mine—is etched across his face.
We both feel it. That we stole those last moments. That we weren’t where we were supposed to be.
And the worst part?
