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                                ᴏɴɪᴋᴀ ᴍᴀʀᴀᴊ

I watched as Aubrey stepped back into the room, drying his hands on a paper towel from the bathroom

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I watched as Aubrey stepped back into the room, drying his hands on a paper towel from the bathroom. He looked tired—like this hospital had been weighing on him just as much as it had been weighing on me.

His hood was up, and the moment he sat down beside me, he reached over and gently grabbed my hand.

"You feeling okay, mama?"

I let out a sigh and nodded, but it was one of those fake nods.

"I'm just tired of being in here, Aubrey. I'm tired of staying in the bed. I want to get up and walk..."

He didn't react right away—just stared at me for a second. "I understand you, Onika," he finally said, "but you know you can't..."

"Aubrey, I'm fine!" I snapped, frustration slipping through.

"Onika... stop," he said, his voice a little firmer. "They still have you in the hospital for a reason."

And that was it. I shut down.

I stopped talking. I stopped looking at him. Just turned my face to the wall and gently slid my hand out of his grasp. I didn't want to argue.

He sighed, long and deep. "You mad at me?" he asked quietly. "You know I just want you to get back to your full strength, mama. I'm not saying this shit to be mean. You know that, right? Right, Onika?"

I still didn't respond.

Without saying another word, he got up and walked out of the room.

And my heart sank.

Was he leaving me?

No... Aubrey wouldn't do that.

A few minutes later, the door opened again. I looked over—and there he was, pushing a wheelchair, with a nurse walking beside him.

"So..." the nurse began with a warm smile, "Aubrey's been telling me you're tired of this place?"

I nodded lightly, my face still a little tense.

"Onika," she said gently, "you're a nurse yourself, so I know you understand why we've kept you here. You need to heal. But... he came up with the idea of getting you out the room for a bit. Just a walk around the hospital in the wheelchair. Change of scenery, get your mind off things."

I looked at Aubrey again, and he was watching me carefully, hands gripping the wheelchair handles.

"You'd do that for me?" I asked softly.

He smiled, just barely. "Of course I would. I know you tired of these four walls, and if this what you need to feel a little better—I got you."

I didn't say anything right away. I just reached out and slowly took his hand again.

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