LILAC
The room is quiet, t o o quiet, the kind of silence that presses in on me from every side. I can hear the ticking of a clock somewhere, but it does nothing to calm the storm inside me. My thoughts are a whirlwind, circling the only thing I can focus on—the diagnosis.
Heart cancer. It doesn't feel real, but the weight of it is already suffocating me.
I lie back on the hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling. The sterile white of the room feels cold, impersonal, like it's trapping me here with my fears. Quentin left a while ago, running after France to get more information, to make sense of what's happening.
But I haven't moved. I can't.
A part of me doesn't want to know. A part of me wants to believe that this is just a nightmare, that I'll wake up and everything will be fine. But the pain in my chest, the dizziness, the fatigue—it's all too real.
The truth is staring me in the face, and I hate the fact that I can't e s c a p e it.
Tears well up again, blurring my vision as I clench the bedsheets beneath me. My heart feels heavy, both physically and emotionally, as if it's betraying me. I've spent so long ignoring the signs, brushing off the moments when I felt unwell. I told myself I was fine. I told myself it was nothing.
And now. . . now it's everything.
The door creaks open, and I quickly wipe my eyes, not wanting Quentin to see me like this. But when I look up, it's not Quentin who enters. It's Doctor France, his expression somber as he steps inside the room.
"Lilac," he says softly, his voice gentle, "I know this is a lot to take in."
I nod, my throat tight as I try to speak. "It's. . . it's overwhelming."
France walks over to the side of the bed, pulling up a chair and sitting down beside me. His presence is calm, reassuring in a way, but it doesn't take away the fear gnawing at my insides.
"Hey, I want you to know," he says, "that we're going to do everything we can to help you. There are treatment options, and we'll start by running more tests to understand the full scope of your condition."
I nod again, though the words feel hollow. Treatment options. More tests. It's all so clinical, so detached from the emotional storm raging inside me.
YOU ARE READING
Skies & Florets
RomanceShe has built a quiet life in her small-town flower shop, surrounded by the blooms she's always loved. But as the years pass, the memory of her childhood friend-the boy who once promised to be by her side-lingers like a ghost among the petals. Now g...
