Before anyone could speak, a nurse ran toward the doctor. “Dr. Sloan—we need you. It’s Nyah.”
We followed him down the corridor to the ICU.
I watched through the glass as chaos erupted around her bed.
The monitor was flat.
Someone called out times.
The defibrillator was wheeled in.
CPR began.
I couldn’t breathe.
Seconds stretched into something unbearable.
Come back to me, Nyah. Please come back to me.
Then—movement.
The monitor flickered.
A rhythm appeared.
Her pulse came back.
I watched the doctor exhale in relief as her vitals stabilized.
After Nyah was transferredto a private ICU room two hours later, I cornered Dr. Sloan and handed him a cheque. “This should cover everything,” I said. “Please don’t tell her.”
My father arrived and refused to leave my side.
“Dad, I’m fine,” I said eventually. “Please go home. I want to stay with her.”
My family finally left, promising to return in the morning.
Nyah lay motionless beneath the thin hospital sheets, monitors breathing for her in soft, rhythmic beeps. Every sound felt amplified. Every rise of her chest felt borrowed.
I pulled the chair closer and sat, elbows on my knees, hands clasped like I was holding something together that wanted to break apart.
I had accused her of being closed off. Of withholding. Of not trusting me.
And all the while she had been carrying this—quietly,carefully—measuring her days, her money, her strength. Delaying her own surgery so others wouldn’t fall apart.
I had called her selfish without using the word.
The irony made my chest ache.
I reached for her hand, hesitant at first. Her fingers were warm. Alive. The smallest mercy.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, though she couldn’t hear me. I leaned back and stared at the ceiling, blinking hard. I hadn’t cried in years—not since I was young enough to believe it fixed things. But something pressed painfully behind my eyes now.
The next day,a soft knock came at the door.
Lucas.
He stood in his pyjamas, clutching Eeyore to his chest, his small shoulders tense beneath an oversized hoodie. Elle hovered behind him, eyes red, her face exhausted.
