Hold On I Still Need You

-Sophie's Treatment Begins-

Edaline's POV:

I stand beside Sophie's bed, my fingers lightly brushing the back of her hand. Her skin is warm, but there's a thinness to her, a fragility that makes my heart ache. She's barely conscious, her eyelids fluttering as she drifts in and out of sleep, her breathing shallow but steady.

Grady stands next to me, his jaw tight, eyes scanning the room, always on alert. We exchange a brief glance—one filled with so many unspoken thoughts. Is this the right choice? The new treatment promises hope, but after everything we've been through, it's hard to fully believe in it. Still, this is Sophie's best chance. We have to trust it. We have to trust her.

Sophie stirs, her voice soft but clear. "I'm going to fight," she whispers.

The words break me, but I nod, unable to speak, afraid my voice would crack. The medical team is ready—Elwin, Alden, and the rest of them—but there's no escaping the tension in the air. The next few hours will decide everything.

I stand close to Grady, my hand gripped tightly in his, as the medical team prepares to begin. The room is suffocating with tension—every movement feels too deliberate, too slow, as if the very air is holding its breath. Elwin and Alden are in their element, working with the precision I've come to expect from them, but even their calmness doesn't quite ease the knot in my stomach.

Sophie lies motionless on the bed, her pale face framed by the soft light above her. She's so weak, so fragile, but I can see the faintest glimmer of awareness in her eyes as she stirs, her gaze drifting over the team and then to us. She looks at me with an expression that says she's ready. Ready to fight.

The first injection goes in, followed by a series of others—specialized procedures meant to target the root of Sophie's illness. Each beep from the machines sounds louder, sharper in my ears, and every slight change in Sophie's condition feels like it's happening to me too. The fear claws at my insides, but I refuse to let it show.

Sophie winces slightly as the treatments begin to take effect, her body reacting, but she doesn't say a word. It's as if she's so used to the pain now, so accustomed to the struggle, that the discomfort is nothing compared to the hope this treatment brings.

Elwin glances at us, his expression unreadable. "This will take time," he says softly. "We'll need to monitor her closely. The risks are still there, but... this could be her best chance."

Grady nods, his jaw tightening. The weight of it all is crushing. Every second counts.

Sophie drifts in and out of consciousness, her breath shallow, but she clings to whatever spark of awareness she can. I hold onto the hope that this treatment will work, even as I watch her body respond in unpredictable ways. The next few hours are a blur of steady adjustments, the doctors constantly recalibrating to keep Sophie stable. But there's no guarantee. No certainty. Only the endless hope that this is the beginning of something better.

I sit beside Sophie, my hand still clutching Grady's, as we watch the doctors work. The room feels like it's shrinking, the steady beeping of the machines filling every corner. The light is harsh, casting long shadows across the sterile floor, but all I can focus on is Sophie's face—pale, fragile, yet still holding that faint glimmer of determination.

Grady's gaze flickers over to me, his eyes filled with the same fear I feel. His grip tightens on my hand, and for a moment, I can see the battle inside him. Are we too late? Is this enough? The questions weigh heavily on his mind, and I know it's because he's already lost so much—too much. It's hard for him to believe in the hope that this treatment offers, especially when Sophie's body is so fragile, so worn down by the endless fight.