An Astronomer's Guide to Falling Angels

Chapter 27

The hospital air hung heavy with tension, every ticking second stretching out painfully for Astor and his friends. It was too much, yet too little—this purgatory between waiting and knowing, fearing the worst but still holding on to slivers of hope. Astor sat in his chair, utterly drained, his eyes puffy and bloodshot from hours of crying. His head rested against the cold wall as he closed his eyes, though he knew there would be no rest for him tonight.

Then the waiting room doors flew open.

James and Meredith rushed in, their faces pale with worry. Both were usually composed, but now they looked haggard and out of place—James's eyes wide and frantic, Meredith's hands trembling as she paced back and forth. They didn't know the full extent of what had happened to Arty yet, but the dread was already seeping into their bones.

"Where is she? Where's Arty?" Meredith's voice cracked as she looked around at the group, her eyes pleading for some kind of reassurance, something that would make the horror of the last few hours go away. James slumped into a chair, her breath shallow, as though she might collapse from the weight of it all.

Lukas, sitting nearby, rubbed his temples before standing up, his expression sombre. He walked over to Meredith and James, his voice low and quiet. "I'm not going to sugarcoat it," he began, glancing at Astor, who still hadn't moved. "She's... it's bad. Really bad. Arty lost a lot of blood. Her heart stopped on the way to the hospital, but... they managed to bring her back."

James visibly recoiled as if she'd been slapped. Her eyes glazed over, and she dropped into a chair like her legs had given out. Meredith, however, clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles went white. She didn't look at anyone as she paced harder, breathing through gritted teeth.

"She's—what? She's not...?" James couldn't even finish the sentence. The possibility that Arty might not make it was a reality too difficult to comprehend.

"No, she's not dead," Lukas continued, his voice still low but strained. "But... she's in a coma."

The words settled over the room like a suffocating blanket. No one knew how to respond at first. It was better than death, but only barely. It was survival at the edge of an abyss, and no one could predict what would happen next. For a moment, the only sound was the distant beeping of machines echoing through the hospital halls.

Astor felt like someone had reached inside him and torn something vital out. He blinked, his breath shallow, his hands clenching into fists on his lap. Comatose. Arty was alive, but she wasn't there. Not really. He felt nauseous, his vision swimming, and he couldn't shake the weight pressing down on his chest. He had prepared himself for the worst, but hearing that word... it was a different kind of pain.

Meredith let out a harsh breath and slammed her fist against the wall. "Dammit! Why couldn't I have been there? I could've stopped this—I should've done something!" Her voice broke, frustration and guilt tearing at her. She stood there, glaring at the floor as if it had personally wronged her, her entire body rigid with rage she had nowhere to direct.

"Meredith, there was nothing you could've done," Oda said quietly from her place against the wall, her own eyes reddened. "None of us could've known it would go this far."

"It doesn't matter! I should have protected her!" Meredith's voice was hoarse, but behind it was a deep anguish. She was always the protector, the strong one—and now she couldn't do a damn thing to help her best friend.

Lukas placed a hand on Meredith's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Arty's tough. She's going to fight through this. We just need to be here when she wakes up."

Meredith didn't say anything, but her jaw clenched as she wiped at her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

The conversation stalled as the surgeon stepped into the room. He looked exhausted, his surgical mask hanging loose around his neck. Everyone straightened up, even Astor, who leaned forward despite the leaden feeling in his limbs.