Where Have You Gone

Chapter 4️⃣4️⃣

The hospital had gone hushed with nightfall — the kind of silence that only wrapped around pediatric wards like a prayer.

Becky sat by Anne’s bedside, listening to the machines hum in steady rhythms. The little girl was fast asleep, curled on her side with her rabbit tucked beneath her chin, her breathing slow and even. Becky’s hand rested on the blankets, near Anne’s arm, grounding herself in the steady rise and fall of that tiny chest.

She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there when a gentle knock rapped on the open door.

“Hey,” came a warm, female voice. “It’s just me.”

Becky tilted her head. She recognized that voice. “Dr. Faye?”

“Yep. Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. I just finished my rounds and wanted to check on her before tomorrow.”

Becky smiled faintly. “You’re always welcome.”

Faye stepped into the room, her presence easy, like sunlight filtered through a window. “How’s she doing?”

“Sleeping,” Becky said. “Like someone who has no idea her heart’s about to be held in someone else’s hands.”

Faye’s voice softened. “She’s brave. So are you.”

Becky didn’t answer that.

She could feel Faye drawing closer. Not too close. Just enough.

“Would you mind some company for a minute?” Faye asked.

Becky hesitated, then nodded. “I wouldn’t.”

Faye slid into the chair across from her. There was the sound of her jacket rustling, the faint clink of her ID badge. A pause.

“You look tired,” Faye said gently.

“I’m fine.”

“You always say that.”

Becky gave a dry laugh. “And yet you keep asking.”

“I guess I like the sound of your voice.”

Becky turned slightly, lips parting in surprise — not at the words themselves, but at the way Faye said them. Honest. Almost bashful. A confession hidden in casual phrasing.

She didn’t respond. Not directly.

Faye didn’t push.

“Freen told me she’d stop by later,” Faye added, as if pivoting away. “She stayed late in theatre, checking equipment, protocols… probably won’t sleep until it’s done.”

Becky’s heart thudded quietly.

She hadn’t seen Freen since the café. But that conversation clung to her like a shadow — one she didn’t know how to step out from.

“She’s… good,” Becky said carefully. “With Anne.”

“She’s the best,” Faye replied easily. “And stubborn as hell. Always was.”

Becky smiled at that. “How long have you known her?”

“Since med school. We used to pull all-nighters together. She taught me how to fold surgical towels like origami. I taught her how to lie on the floor of a call room and pretend it was a beach.”

Becky laughed — a real one this time. “That sounds… oddly specific.”

“She’s specific,” Faye said. “In a beautiful, maddening way.”

Becky was quiet for a moment. Then, softly, “Do you trust her?”

“With my life.”

Becky exhaled slowly. “Then I guess I can trust her with mine too.”

Faye didn’t know what Becky meant by that. But she didn’t ask. Instead, she said, “She’ll take care of Anne. I promise.”

Silence fell again — this one more companionable.

“I should go,” Faye said eventually, rising. “Let you rest.”

Becky stood too, cane in one hand, other brushing the edge of Anne’s bed. “Thank you for staying.”

Faye hesitated at the door. “Do you… maybe want to get tea with me sometime? After this is all over?”

Becky didn’t answer right away.

Faye filled in the space quickly. “No pressure. Just a thought.”

Becky smiled. “I’ll think about it.”

When Faye was gone, the room felt both quieter and heavier. Becky sat again, fingers drifting across the edge of the nightstand — tracing the grain like she had before. Like she was waiting.

A minute later, the door creaked again.

No knock.

No announcement.

Just presence.

She knew who it was.

“I was going to wait until morning,” Freen said softly, “but I couldn’t.”

Becky’s throat tightened. “So you came.”

“I always come.”

Becky turned toward her, slowly. “That’s not true.”

Freen didn’t respond. But her breath stuttered.

“I didn’t mean to say that,” Becky murmured.

“Yes, you did.”

They stood there, words between them like glass.

“I’m scared,” Becky said suddenly. “I know the odds are good. I know Anne’s strong. But I keep thinking—what if something goes wrong? What if I lose her too?”

Freen crossed the room in three strides.

Becky felt hands brush hers. She didn’t flinch.

“I won’t let that happen,” Freen whispered.

“You can’t promise that.”

“No. But I’ll do everything in me to make sure she wakes up smiling.”

Becky bowed her head, tears prickling behind her eyes.

“Your voice,” she said. “It sounds like someone I used to know.”

Freen didn’t speak. Becky felt her flinch.

“I don’t know why it comforts me,” Becky said.

“Maybe because part of you still remembers what being loved felt like.”

That silenced them both.

Becky reached out blindly, and her hand found Freen’s.

Freen caught it gently, held it like something fragile.

“I trust you,” Becky said, just above a whisper.

“I won’t let you down.”

Their hands stayed clasped — two lives bridged by silence, grief, hope.

Anne shifted in her sleep, murmuring something about a bunny tea party.

Becky didn’t let go.

Neither did Freen.