𝗠𝗘𝗔𝗡𝗧 𝗧𝗢 𝗕𝗘 // 𝗖.𝗙

𝓗𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓯𝓾𝓵𝓵𝔂

CONRAD STEPS into the sterile hospital room, his heart pounding in his chest. Jeremiah had driven him there after a strained conversation with his mother and brother.

He spots Laurel, John, Steven, and Belly huddled around the doctor, their faces etched with worry, before he fully entered the room.

The sight of Sylvia stole his breath away. He moved to her side, his gaze fixed on her pale face. Beau sat beside her, his large hand gently enveloping hers.

Wires snake around her arms, connecting her to humming machines. Her forehead glistened with a sheen of sweat, and a faint purple bruise bloomed across the bridge of her nose where Jeremiah had accidentally elbowed her.

Thank God it wasn't broken, he thought, a small mercy in the face of so much fear.

He reaches for her other hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. "Wake up, pretty girl. We need you."

The door swung open, and the Conklin family rush in, their sobs echoing in the small space. Steven and Belly clung to their sister's side, their faces buried in her blankets.

Beau relinquishes his seat, joining Conrad as Susannah and Jeremiah moves to stand behind them. Laurel wipes her eyes, her voice trembling as she spoke. "She hasn't been taking her pills...it weakened her, made her vulnerable. The stress just pushed her over the edge."

Conrad's breath hitches. Guilt washed over him, a suffocating wave. He should have been more vigilant, made sure she took her medication, recognized the signs of her distress.

"I should have helped her." Conrad chokes out, a sob escaping his lips. "I should have known, paid more attention..."

Steven rounds on him, his own face streaked with tears. "Don't do that, Con. This isn't on you. We all missed it."

Belly nods, her voice thick with emotion. "You're the last person to blame. You made her happy, gave her something to fight for. I'm the one who hurt her the most."

Jeremiah pulls Conrad into a tight embrace, allowing him to weep. Beau stood silently, his own grief a palpable presence.

Susannah wrapped her arms around Conrad, offering a mother's comfort. "I can't lose her," I've already lost so much. If I lose her, I'll lose everything."

The unspoken question hung heavy in the air:

What if they lost her?

What if this was the end of their story?

Why couldn't Conrad have his happy ending with the girl he loved?

Why couldn't they find peace?

∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎

The first rays of dawn filter through the sterile blinds of the hospital room, casting a pale light on Conrad. He was slumped in a hard plastic chair, his head resting awkwardly against the edge of Sylvia's bed.

Beau had slipped out to use the restroom, leaving Conrad on watch.

The family had entrusted them, Conrad and Beau, together, to stay vigil, a silent testament to the bond they shared with Sylvia.

The boys hadn't hesitated; their place was by her side.

Sylvia stirs with a low, guttural grunt, her eyelids fluttering open. The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital room assaulted her senses, and she squinted, her vision swimming.