Elena’s POV
“Mom“” My voice cracked as I pushed through the hospital room door, my heart pounding in my chest like it was trying to w its way out. The sterile scent of antiseptic and faint traces of medicine wrapped around me instantly. The room was softly lit, shadows cast across the pale green walls by the gentle sunlight trying to peek through the half–drawn blinds.
Her head turned toward me slowly, her face pale and thinner than I remembered, but her eyes–those eyes I knew better than my own reflection- lir up the moment they found me.
I rushed to her side, my hands wrapping around hers <b>as </b><b>my </b>knees hit the floor next to her bed. Her fingers felt fragile in mine, like porcin warmed by love and wear
“Oh my God, Mom.” I could barely breathe. My throat tightened as tears spilled down my cheeks. Im so d you’re okay. I’m sorry, I wasn’t here when you woke up. 1-1 should have-
-Shhh,” she whispered, her voice <b>hoarse </b>but filled with that familiar sternness, Her lips curved into the faintest smile as she squeezed my <b>hand </b>“That’s okay Sit down, Elena.”
Even <b>in </b>her weak ness she managed to <b>hush </b>me the same way she always had.
I blinked back the rest of my tears and stood slowly, dragging the chair closer to her bed, never once letting go of her hand. My chest still felt right, and <b>my </b>fingers trembled with leftover <b>panic</b>. I took in the details of her face–the faint lines on her forehead, the <b>silver </b><b>streaks </b>threaded <b>through </b>her blonde <b>hair</b>.
But her eyes still held fire.
Then her gaze fackered around the <b>room </b>in confusion, her brows furrowing. “Where’s George!”
My breath caught.
My blood turned cold.
She didn’t remember!
A wave of dread washed over me, soaking every inch of me like icy <b>rain</b>. My fingers tightened around hers as I leaned forward, my voice trembling.
“Y–you don’t remember!”
A pause.
And then I watched it happen. The shift in <b>her </b>eyes, the faint tremor in her lower lip. She remembered.
Her hand shook in mine. “Ah. <b>right</b>.” Her voice broke, cracking like thin ss. “<b>Right</b><b>.</b>”
The grief hit her all over again, and I saw it. The exact moment the loss settled over her like a shadow. Her body deted with <b>a </b><b>soft </b>exhale, eyes suddenly unfocused
“Mom,” I whispered, heart aching. “I’m so sorry.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and her lips trembled, but she gave a small shake of her head, like she didn’t want me to cry for her.
“Don’t be,” she <b>said</b>, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “It’s not in our hands. There’s no banquet in this world that doesn’te to an end.”
That line.
She’d said that to m
to me so many times over the ye
years<b>. </b>
And yet hearing it now, with her lying in a hospital bed after losing the man she’d loved for over a decade, it hit harder <b>than </b>I expected.
I nodded, lips pressed tight <b>as </b>I blinked furiously. I hated crying in front of her. Hated showing weakness. But this wasn’t weakness, was it? This was loss. This was love <b>that </b><b>had </b>nowhere else to go.
She <b>closed </b>her eyes, and I knew it wasn’t just sadness–it was exhaustion. Her body still hadn’t recovered, <b>and </b>even holding <b>a </b>conversation seemed to drain her
I reached over and gently wiped the tears that silently trailed down her <b>cheeks</b>.
1:35 PM
“I’m sorry I left you with all of this,” she whispered again, her words barely audible. “You must <b>have </b>been so scared
I shook my head quickly, choking <b>back </b>the sob in my throat. “As <b>long </b><b>as </b>you’re okay now, I don’t care. Please, just focus on getting better.”
It was the truth. All I needed was her..
In
Because the idea of facing this worldpletely alone, without a single <b>person </b>who saw me as their first priority, was suffocating
I was <b>afraid </b>of
1 hadn’t realized it before. But I understood now, in the cold fluorescent light of this hospital room, that I wasn’t afraid of death. I was loneliness. Of being forgotten. Of having no one to run to
That thought made another name crawl its way in
into my head.
Niki
He didn’t ha
<b>have </b>anyone either, did he
No mother. A terrible father. No girlfriend or even close friends, from what I’d seen. And for some reason, that thought squeezed something sharp in my
chest.
Did he feel lonely?
The door creaked open, and a doctor walked in holding a <b>clipboard</b>.
He looked calm, professional, but his eyes flicked toward my mother with just enough gentleness to case some of my tension.
“Good morning. Mrs. Kovalyova,” he greeted. “And Miss Elena. I’m d to see you’re awake”
He moved to the foot of the bed, flipping through the clipboard as he began exining her condition, the surgery, the medications, the schedule for the next few weeks. Everything
With every sentence<b>, </b>I felt Mom tensing
Her hand in mine started to clench tighter and tighter, until her knuckles turned white. I didn’t stop her. I just held on.
When the doctor left, promising to return for her afternoon <b>vitals</b>, I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
Then she asked it.
“Did Dmitri pay for all of thist
Her voice was suspicious. Tired, but not confused.
My heart dropped to my stomach
She rubbed her temples and pushed herself up in bed. I scrambled <b>to </b>adjust her pillows, trying to buy myself a few seconds.
“This hospital is way too expensive for us,” she muttered.
I didn’t say anything
Pursed my lips.
Fidgeted.
How the hell was I supposed to exin thist
If <b>I </b><b>said </b>Dmitri did <b>pay</b>, she’d flip. If 1 said he didn’t, she’d think I went <b>back </b>to the loan sharks. And if 1 told her the truth?
I wanted to groan.
“No,” I <b>said </b>instead, quietly. “Don’t worry about the money. I’ll take care of it.”
Stupid.
So, <b>so </b>stupid.
Her hand mped <b>around </b>mine like <b>a </b>steel trap, and her eyes narrowed.
“What Did. You. Dol
I gulped.
<b>2/3 </b>
frlier heads
Dear God, why was she so scary even when she looked like she could barely lift
“Mom,” I tried.
“<b>Elena</b>,” she snapped.