Kismet | ENGLOT

Chapter 29

Engfa's POV:

The waiting room was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights above. My body ached as I shifted in the stiff plastic chair, a dull pain radiating from my neck to my lower back. I must have fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion, my body finally giving in after hours of pacing, crying, and staring at the sterile white walls. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the streak of light streaming through the windows—it was morning.

The heavy weight of reality crashed down on me again like an unrelenting tide. No news. No updates. Nothing about Charlotte's condition. The silence from the doctors was deafening, and every second stretched into an eternity.

Earlier that night, my friends had stayed by my side, their presence a fragile source of comfort. Nessa had tried to convince me to eat, but I couldn't stomach a single bite. Patcha and Marima had alternated between sitting silently and reassuring me, while Tina and Heidi had tried to distract me with light conversation. Despite their efforts, the weight in my chest didn't budge.

Eventually, as the hours dragged on, I could see the exhaustion etched on their faces. I knew they wanted to stay, but they were running on empty, and their worry for me was palpable. "Guys," I'd said softly, my voice cracking, "you should go home. Get some rest. I'll call you if anything happens."

"But, Fa—" Nessa had protested, her eyes filled with concern.

I had forced a smile that I didn't feel. "Please. I'll be fine. I just... I need to be here, okay? For Charlotte."

Reluctantly, they'd given in, each of them hugging me tightly before they left, their faces heavy with worry and sorrow. I watched them walk away, my heart breaking even more. When the waiting room door finally swung shut, I was alone. Alone with my thoughts, my fears, and the unbearable ache of not knowing.

Now, the morning light bathed the room in a soft glow, but it offered no comfort. My body felt like it was made of lead, my limbs sluggish and uncooperative. The only thing that kept me upright was the flickering hope that any moment now, I would hear news about Charlotte.

The sound of hurried footsteps startled me awake fully, pulling me from the haze of my thoughts. A familiar voice called out, laced with urgency. "Engfa!"

I looked up to see Mr. Austin rushing into the waiting room. His face was pale, his eyes red-rimmed from what was clearly a sleepless night. His presence was both a relief and a reminder of the gravity of the situation.

"Mr. Austin?" I croaked, my voice hoarse from crying and fatigue. I struggled to sit upright, my entire body protesting the movement. He reached me in seconds, placing a firm but gentle hand on my shoulder. His gaze softened as he took in the state I was in—disheveled, exhausted, and barely holding on.

"Engfa," he said, his voice steady but tinged with concern, "how long have you been here?"

I glanced at the clock on the wall, my mind sluggish as I calculated. Eighteen hours. I had been at the hospital for eighteen hours, waiting, praying, hoping for some sign—any sign—that Charlotte would wake up. My throat tightened, and all I could manage was a small nod.

Mr. Austin sighed, his expression a mixture of sorrow and understanding. He knelt down so our eyes were level, his voice gentle but firm. "You need to go home, Engfa. Get some rest."

"No," I said immediately, shaking my head. The thought of leaving felt unbearable, like a betrayal. "I can't leave. What if she wakes up? What if something happens? I need to be here."

He placed both hands on my shoulders, his grip steady and grounding. "Listen to me," he said, his voice soft but resolute. "Charlotte needs you to be strong for her. If you don't take care of yourself, how will you take care of her when she wakes up? And she will wake up, Engfa. She will."