I'll Be Back

Epilogue

The hospital buzzed with quiet urgency. Today was the day of Jane's heart transplant, and the air was thick with cautious hope, whispered prayers, and the steady, purposeful footsteps of doctors and nurses moving between rooms. It was an undercurrent of calm and anxiety coexisting, every person keenly aware that today might be the beginning of a new life for Jane—or the end of a long, hard journey.

Aiah sat in the waiting room, fingers clenched so tightly they’d gone numb, her nails pressing into her skin as she stared at the doors to the operating room. Her heart raced with each tick of the clock, an erratic reminder of time dragging on without end. She had been here for hours, but every minute stretched out, making her nerves feel stretched and frayed. The air conditioning was turned too high, leaving her feeling cold, but she didn't bother reaching for her sweater. Her thoughts were too tangled, her mind too fixated on Jane.

Aiah had been preparing for this day for so long, but now that it was here, she felt the weight of the unknown pressing down on her. She tried to tell herself that everything would be fine, that Jane would finally wake up and hear the giggles that she missed. But the thoughts kept creeping in, memories of hospital visits, late nights, the countless setbacks. She clenched her hands tighter, as if she could hold onto hope by sheer will alone.

In moments like these, Aiah would usually have Mikha by her side. Mikha was her rock, her silent strength through all the sleepless nights and desperate prayers. But Mikha hadn't shown up all morning, and Aiah’s attempts to contact her had been met with silence. The realization left her with a pang of worry, but she tried to push it aside. She had to focus on Jane, to believe that, just this once, the universe would be kind.

As the minutes turned to hours, Aiah found herself glancing at her phone, hoping for any sign from Mikha, a text, a missed call, anything. She typed and deleted a message a dozen times, unsure of what to even say. How could she tell Mikha how much she needed her here, without sounding like she was falling apart?

No new notifications appeared on her screen, only the time, ticking away slowly. Finally, she slipped the phone back into her pocket and fixed her gaze on the doors, her heart aching with every passing second.

The waiting room felt empty despite the people around her. A couple across the room exchanged quiet words, a mother soothed a child, a nurse came by offering warm blankets to those who needed it. But Aiah barely registered any of it, her world narrowed down to a single point of hope resting on the other side of that operating room door. She closed her eyes, bowing her head and whispering a prayer, one more desperate plea to the universe to spare her little girl, to let her live a life beyond these walls.

The hours continued to drag on, and Aiah felt the tension creeping up her spine, winding tighter with each glance at the clock. She stood up, walking the length of the hallway, trying to release some of the nervous energy coursing through her. Her thoughts wandered to all the nights she’d spent in that same waiting room, watching the hours melt into each other as she kept vigil over Jane’s fragile life. It seemed unfair, she thought, that a child should know so much pain.

A sigh escaped her lips as she leaned against the wall, her hands pressed flat against the cool tiles, grounding herself. She forced herself to take deep breaths, willing her heart to slow, to calm down. Just as she started to feel a semblance of control return, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fumbled for it, hope fluttering in her chest, only to find a simple message from one of the nurses. The surgery was still ongoing. Aiah's heart sank, the brief spark of hope fading as quickly as it had come. She slipped her phone back into her pocket, her shoulders sagging under the weight of the news.

By now, Aiah was so tense that even the slightest noise made her flinch. Every time a doctor or nurse walked by, she found herself holding her breath, hoping it was someone with news, some sign that Jane was okay. But no one came, and the hours continued to creep by, an endless loop of waiting and worry.