Faithful Horizons

Chapter 22: Another Setback

The steady beeping of monitors filled the hospital room, a mechanical rhythm that made Ethan's headache. He sat slumped in the chair by his mom's beside, his fingers loosely clasping the edges of his phone. The screen was dark, his unread messages from Grace left untouched.

His mom stirred, her thin fingers twitching slightly against the blanket. Ethan leaned forward instinctively, his voice low.

"Mom?"

Her eyelids fluttered open, her eyes unfocused for a moment before they found him. "Hey, sweetheart," she murmured, her voice raspy.

Ethan forced a smile, trying to mask the storm brewing in his chest. "Hey. you had me worried there for a while."

Her lips curved faintly, though it was more exhaustion than humor. "Guess I'm getting good at that."

"Not funny," Ethan muttered, leaning back in the chair. "You scared me, Mom."

Her hand shifted slightly, as though she was trying to reach for his, but she let it rest instead. "I'm sorry, Ethan. I didn't mean to-"

"Don't," he interrupted his voice sharper than he intended. He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. "Don't apologize. You don't need to."

For a while, the room was quiet except for the faint hum of the machines. Ethan stared at the floor, his mind replaying the words Dr. Patel had said earlier.

"Your mother's condition is progressing faster than we anticipated."

The words echoed in his head, solemn and unrelenting.

Hours earlier, the meeting with Dr. Patel had been like stepping into a nightmare he couldn't escape and wake from.

"She suffered a cardiac episode caused by her heart failure worsening," Dr. Patel explained, his tone measured but grave. "The medications we've been using aren't having the desired effect anymore. Her heart is simply too weak."

Ethan's throat tightened as he listened, his fists clenching at his sides. "So... what happens now?"

Dr. Patel hesitated. "We'll continue to do everything to keep her stable. But at this stage, more aggressive treatments may not be effective. Long-term care would be the safest option.:

Ethan shook his head, his voice sharp. "She doesn't want that. She's made that clear."

"I understand," Dr. Patel said gently. "But the reality is that staying at home would put her at significant risk. Another cardiac event could happen at any time, and it could be fatal."

The words felt like a gut punch. "And if she stays here?" Ethan asked, his voice hollow.

"She'd have access to around-the-clock care and monitoring," Dr. Patel said. "But even then, her condition will likely continue to decline."

Ethan's head spun, his mind racing with questions he didn't know how to ask. "How much time does she have?"

Dr. Patel's expression softened. "It's hard to say. Weeks, months... it depends on how her body responds."

The room felt like it was closing in on him. He didn't remember leaving the office, just the heavy weight that followed him back to his mom's room.

Now, Ethan sat by her bedside, his hands gripping the edge of the chair as he stared at her frail frame. Her breathing was shallow, the rise and fall of her chest uneven.

"Ethan," she said softly, her voice pulling him from his thoughts.

"Yeah?" he said, sitting up straighter.

Her gaze met his, her eyes full of both sadness and resolve. "You heard what the doctor said, didn't you?"

Ethan nodded, his throat too closed to speak.

She sighed, her voice trembling slightly. "I know you don't want to hear this, but... I don't want to spend whatever time I have left in a hospital. I want to be at home. With you."

"Mom," Ethan began, his voice breaking, "you heard what he said too. If you stay at home, this could happen again. And next time... next time you might not make it."

She smiled faintly, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I know the risks, Ethan. But I can't live the rest of my life being afraid of what might happen. I need to live. Do you understand?"

Ethan's chest ached as he looked at her, his emotions a tangled mess of frustration, fear, and helplessness. "I just don't want to lose you," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her hand moved slightly, brushing against his. "I know. But you have to let me make this choice. Promise me, Ethan."

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightened as he struggled to hold back his tears. "I don't know if I can."

"You can," she said, her voice soft but firm. "You're stronger than you think, Ethan. And no matter what happens, you'll be okay."

Ethan shook his head, the tears he'd been holding back finally spilling over. "I don't know how to do this without you."

Her eyes softened, and she gave his hand a weak squeeze. "You're not alone, Ethan. And you never will be."

The ride home that night was quiet, the faint sound of rain tapping against the windshield, Ethan's chest felt hollow, his thoughts swirling as he replayed the conversation with his mom over and over.

When he finally stepped into the apartment, the silence was deafening. He dropped his keys on the counter and sank onto the couch, his head in his hands.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, Grace's name lighting up the screen.

Grace: How's your mom? Thinking of you.

Ethan stared at the message, his chest tightening. He wanted to call her, to let her reassure him the way she always did. But the weight in his chest held him back.

What could she possibly say to make this better?

He shoved the phone aside, leaning against the couch as his vision blurred with unshed tears.

Later that night, he found himself staring at the Bible Grace had given him. It sat on the nightstand, unopened, its pages still pristine.

He reached for it hesitantly, his fingers brushing against the cover before pulling back.

"What's the point?" he muttered under his breath, his voice bitter. "What kind of God lets this happen?"

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of his doubts pressing down harder than ever.

For the first time, he wasn't sure if he could keep holding on.

A/N:

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