Between the desks

Chapter 73

Lily's POV

Amren's eyes fluttered closed again, her breathing shallow, and I felt my heart tighten with worry. I sat beside her hospital bed, staring at her pale face, and I couldn't stop the tears from welling up in my eyes. The moment the hospital had called, my entire world shifted. I was her emergency contact, and when they told me she'd been in an accident, I had driven to the hospital as fast as I could, barely able to see through the blur of my tears. Guilt gnawed at me with every mile I sped through, every red light I ignored. I should have known something was wrong. I should have gone home with her. I should have been there.

Now, here I was, sitting by her side while she lay unconscious, her body battered and bruised. The doctors had explained that she'd been lucky—"lucky" they called it—but it didn't feel like that at all. They told me she had a few internal bleedings, nothing life-threatening, and a broken left arm. They'd done every scan imaginable, monitoring her condition closely. Still, it didn't ease the knot of fear twisting inside me.

As I held her cold hand, I couldn't stop replaying her mumbled words in my head. She had whispered something about Professor Olsen, about hurting her. What had happened after class? What had she said that left her in such a state? My best friend was lying here, fighting to recover, and I had no idea what had caused this spiral. It gnawed at me—this overwhelming need to understand. What had driven Amren to this moment, to this recklessness?

The doctors had assured me she was stable, but they couldn't say when she'd wake up. So, I sat in the sterile hospital room, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, waiting for any sign that she'd open her eyes again. The hospital's dim lights buzzed overhead, and the sound of distant monitors filled the silence. The place felt eerily calm, but inside, I was anything but.

I needed to tell someone, anyone who cared. But who could I call? My thoughts drifted to school—her professors, classmates—but it wasn't until I thought of Professor Olsen that I felt a twinge of urgency. Amren had mentioned her for a reason, and from what I'd gathered from all of her stories, there was something deeper between them. Amren's feelings for Professor Olsen weren't just some passing crush. They ran deep, and part of me couldn't shake the feeling that Olsen must feel something too. There was no way Amren was the only one affected.

I pulled out my phone, my fingers shaking as I typed an email to Professor Olsen. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if this was the right thing to do, but my gut told me she needed to know. Amren had been through too much to keep this a secret.

Hi Professor Olsen,

I wanted to let you know that Amren has been in a car accident. A truck hit her. She is in the hospital now. I thought you should know. She is at Grace Hospital, 7th floor, room 13.

If you want to visit her, you can.

Sincerely,
Lily

I stared at the message for a moment, my thumb hovering over the send button. Then, with a deep breath, I pressed it, watching the email disappear from my screen. A weight lifted off my shoulders slightly, knowing that someone else, someone important to Amren, would know about this. But what would Professor Olsen do? Would she even come? Was I wrong about her feelings? My mind raced with possibilities, each one more uncertain than the last.

The sterile walls of the hospital seemed to close in on me as the minutes dragged by. I tried to sleep, but the stiff, uncomfortable chairs in the waiting area made it impossible. I shifted restlessly, praying to some higher power—though I didn't even believe in one—that Amren would wake up soon, that she'd be okay. I hated this feeling of helplessness, of not being able to do anything but sit here and wait.

After what felt like hours, exhaustion hit me hard, and I knew I couldn't stay in the hospital any longer. As much as I wanted to be by Amren's side, waiting for any sign of improvement, I needed rest. I could barely keep my eyes open. Against my better judgment, I decided to leave. I told the nurse I'd be back early in the morning and, with one last look at Amren, I walked out of the hospital.

The night air hit me like a slap to the face as I stepped outside. The city was quiet, the streets mostly empty, but I still felt this gnawing sense of dread. I couldn't go home, not to my own bed. The idea of being alone in my apartment made my skin crawl. I needed to be close to her, even if she wasn't conscious.

Without thinking, I drove straight to Amren's place. The apartment was exactly how she'd left it—a mess of clothes, shoes, and random papers scattered everywhere. But it felt like her. It smelled like her. The sight of her cluttered space brought me an odd sense of comfort. I walked through her small living room, running my fingers along the back of her couch, letting the familiarity of her things ground me.

I made my way to her bedroom and crawled into her bed, pulling the covers over me. It was the closest I could get to her right now. As I lay there, the weight of everything that had happened pressed down on me again, but I forced myself to close my eyes. The smell of her pillow, the faint scent of her perfume, was all I had to hold onto for the night.

The hospital might be where her body was, but this—her room, her bed—this was where her spirit lingered, and I needed to feel that connection. I curled up under the covers, holding onto the hope that when I returned to the hospital in the morning, I'd find her awake, smiling, telling me how ridiculous it all was.

But for now, all I could do was sleep, surrounded by the memory of my best friend and the fear of losing her.