FRIDAY'S GIRL ·ϿʘϾ·

Chapter 24

***DRAFT***

Mrs. Friedman looked at her husband with pure adoration, murmuring over and over that she loved him so much. Meanwhile, the vital signs monitor showed her heart rate was a bit faster than usual, probably because of the excitement of being reunited with her husband.

"And I love you too, sweetheart. You have no idea how much..." Mr. Friedman's voice trembled slightly. "I felt like I couldn't breathe without you."

April and I took a step back, giving the elderly couple some space to enjoy their reunion without further interruptions. We exchanged a look, both of us feeling that breaking the hospital rules was totally worth it.

"How did you get here, Zechariah?" Mrs. Friedman looked around, trying to figure out where she was.

"This kind couple helped me. Do you remember April?" He pointed to her, and Mrs. Friedman nodded, a bit unsure. "And this is her boyfriend, Brad. They remind me a lot of us when we were young and in love."

I couldn't help but grin at that, while my classmate's face went pale. It was obvious she was making a huge effort to stay quiet and not ruin the moment. Enjoying her discomfort, I raised an eyebrow and looked at her mockingly. She, in that cute clown costume, made a face like she'd eaten something sour at three in the morning, crossed her arms, and huffed.

"You seem a bit on edge, Miss Storm," I teased, determined to annoy her a bit more.

"I'm not on edge," April muttered through gritted teeth. "I just don't want everyone in the hospital thinking I have a boyfriend."

"Are you worried your buddy William will find out?" I shot back, unable to keep my mouth shut.

There was no time for a reply because the door to the room burst open, and an oncology doctor stormed in. He walked towards us with firm steps and a look that spelled trouble. My gut told me he knew about the old man's fragile condition, or at least his disapproving expression suggested so.

"An orderly told me he thought he saw Mr. Friedman on the trauma floor. I don't know who thought this was a good idea, but in his health condition, he shouldn't be out of bed," he said sternly, leaving no doubt we were in trouble. "I'm Dr. Smith, and I'm taking him back to his room."

Just as the doctor was about to grab the wheelchair handles, a little miracle happened. Mr. Friedman, with unexpected strength, probably more from his indomitable spirit than his frail body, struggled to his feet. Wobbling but determined, he leaned over his wife and, with what seemed like superhuman effort, gave her a warm kiss on the lips.

"I love you, Ruth," he said, with a love as deep as the ocean.

"And I love you too, Zach." Mrs. Friedman then sat up in bed to return the kiss to the man she had shared more than half her life with.

Dr. Smith, who had been about to intervene, stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the couple's sweet farewell, half-embarrassed. Finally, he approached them with a more relaxed attitude.

"Please, take a seat, Mr. Friedman. In your condition, it's better to avoid standing for too long. We don't want you to lose your strength."

I felt a mix of relief and happiness at Dr. Smith's sudden change of attitude, who must have been moved by what had just happened.

"I guess that must be true love," I commented without thinking, feeling a bit envious of the elderly couple.

Dr. Smith turned his head and, looking at us over his shoulder, said in a solemn tone, "You better get out of here! I've alerted security, and they'll be here soon. If they catch you, you'll be in serious trouble. As for me, I didn't see anything."