By the Book

Chapter Thirty-Three: Castles Crumbling

The hospital room felt colder than before, the sterile lights casting an unforgiving glare on everything they touched. Dad's shallow breaths barely stirred the air, a faint, fragile rhythm that seemed to echo the weight in my chest. He lay still, his face pale and drawn, as if the very effort of living had drained him of everything but the faintest spark of who he used to be. The steady beeps of the machines punctuated the silence, each one a sharp reminder of the fragility of the moment. The antiseptic smell was sharp, clawing at the back of my throat, as if trying to mask something too raw, too real to name.

Tyler stood rigid by the bed, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His jaw was locked, and his eyes burned with a frustration he couldn't direct anywhere. Every so often, his foot tapped against the floor, the only outward sign of the storm raging beneath his rigid posture. The muscles in his jaw flexed and unflexed, his anger looking for something—anything—to latch onto.

Ben was a different storm entirely, slouched in the chair near the window, his legs bouncing erratically as he stared down at the tiled floor. His fists opened and closed around the armrests of his chair, tension radiating off him in waves. The stark white of the room's walls seemed to amplify the oppressive air pressing down on all of us.

I walked in slowly, my steps heavy with the weight of what I had to say. The door clicked softly behind me, but it felt louder in the otherwise silent room. Tyler's head snapped up immediately, his gaze locking onto mine. There was a flicker of relief in his expression, but it was overshadowed by dread. Ben, on the other hand, barely glanced my way, his posture stiff and withdrawn. His shoulders were hunched, his tension radiating out like a warning sign, daring anyone to get too close.

I hesitated for half a breath before crossing to Tyler. He stood taller as I approached, but I could see the tension in the set of his jaw and the way his shoulders strained against the fabric of his shirt. I placed a hand on his arm, feeling the taut muscles beneath my fingers. "I spoke with the doctor," I said quietly, my voice steady but careful. "We need to talk."

Tyler's jaw tightened further, but he nodded, his eyes searching mine with a silent plea for answers. "What did they say?"

I glanced at Ben, who hadn't moved, before swallowing hard and forcing the words out. "The tumor has progressed. The treatment isn't working anymore."

Tyler's breath hitched, and his brows furrowed deeply. "What does that mean?" His voice cracked slightly, and I could feel the rawness in the question.

"It means..." I hesitated, my throat tightening. "It means they're focusing on keeping him comfortable now. They're saying weeks. Maybe months."

Tyler's hands trembled slightly under mine, his foot tapping faster against the floor as he tried to process the words. "'Weeks?'" he whispered, the word breaking as it left his mouth.

I nodded, the ache in my chest deepening with every breath. "I know it's not what we wanted, but we have to focus on what's next. We need to—"

"'We' need to?" Ben's voice cut through mine like a knife, sharp and full of anger. His head snapped up, and the fire in his eyes made me instinctively stiffen. "No, Kara. You need to. You're the one who always thinks you have to fix everything, aren't you?"

"Ben, I'm just trying to help," I said, my tone even despite the sting of his words. "We're all dealing with this, and I'm just—"

"You don't know what you're doing!" Ben exploded, shoving himself upright. The screech of the chair against the tile made me flinch, but I didn't back away. I took a small, careful step forward, keeping my voice calm.

"Ben, I know this is hard, but we have to—"

"Don't!" he snapped, his fists clenching tightly at his sides. "You think you have all the answers, but you don't know a damn thing! You don't know what it's like to sit here, day after day, watching him fall apart," Ben spat, his chest heaving with the effort of keeping his voice from cracking. "You're always running off to fix things, acting like you've got all the answers when you don't know a damn thing!"