YOU ARE MY LIGHT

CHAPTER 10 : LET ME GO

Zara was still trembling violently, her small body jerking against the white hospital sheets. The monitors screamed in a chaotic rhythm, each beep slicing through me.

I rushed to her side, wrapped my arms around her, and held her as tightly as I dared. She felt so fragile. Too fragile.

“Stay strong,” I whispered to myself as I prepared the injection with shaking hands. The needle slid into her arm. Seconds felt like hours.

Slowly, the tremors eased. Her body went limp against mine, exhaustion replacing the storm. I pulled her closer, pressing my face into her hair that still smelled faintly of the strawberry shampoo she loved.

“It’s okay… you’re okay now,” I murmured.

But even I didn’t believe it.

Outside her room, the corridor had become a battlefield.

Mr. Vincent stood with Zara’s parents, his voice low but firm. “We cannot delay. The surgery must happen today.”

The mother’s voice cracked. “Will she be safe? Will the suffering finally stop?”

Vincent exhaled slowly, then said the words that broke the air:

“This surgery won’t cure her. At best… it buys her time. Maybe a year, if we’re lucky. The pain won’t disappear completely.”

The mother collapsed against her husband, sobbing. “How can my little girl go through all this… just for one more year of pain?”

“I’m sorry,” Vincent said quietly. This time it didn’t sound like a doctor’s line. It sounded like a man who wished he could do more.

When we entered Zara’s room, the mood had changed. It no longer felt like we were preparing for surgery. It felt like we were saying goodbye.

Her mother leaned over the bed, stroking her hair with trembling fingers.

“My brave child,” she whispered, forcing a smile. “Think of it as a long sleep. When you wake up, everything will be better.”

Zara looked up at her, eyes far too aware for a fifteen-year-old.

“Mom… will I really be okay?”

The mother broke.

And then Zara whispered the words that stopped everything:

“Mom… let’s not do the surgery.”

The room went completely still.

“I don’t want to live like this anymore,” she said, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I don’t want to keep fighting a war I can’t win.”

Her eyes found mine.

“Aunt Juliet… tell them. Tell them it’s okay to let me go.”

My throat closed.

“I just want to go somewhere my head doesn’t hurt. I want to run without feeling dizzy. I want to breathe without struggling.” Her fingers tightened around mine. “I don’t want to be a burden to everyone around me.”

The word “burden” made the whole room go quiet.

Zara’s father slowly sank to his knees beside the bed, pressing his forehead to the sheets.

“You’re not a burden, baby,” he whispered, voice breaking. “But… okay. No more needles. No more cold rooms. No more fighting. I hear you.”

Later, in Vincent’s office, the parents made it official.

“We’ve decided to honor her wish,” the father said quietly. “At least let her spend her last days in peace.”

The mother looked at me with swollen eyes. “Thank you, Juliet… for loving her like she was your own.”

After they left, the silence was suffocating.

“Juliet.”

Vincent’s voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. “Go home. Take a few days off.”

I shook my head. “There are other patients. I should stay.”

He noticed my hands were still trembling. Then his eyes dropped to my feet. I was still wearing the same heels I had on when Zara’s alarm went off.

Without a word, he reached under his desk, pulled out a pair of soft hospital slippers, and dropped them in front of me.

“Wear these,” he said simply. “It’s not good to work in heels all day.”

I slipped them on without arguing.

Hours later, I finally left the hospital. It was raining heavily outside. I didn’t bother with an umbrella. I just walked.

The rain soaked through my clothes, but I didn’t care. I needed it.

At the crosswalk, my mind was too heavy to notice the red light. I stepped forward.

Suddenly, a strong hand yanked me back.

“Juliet! The light!”

It was Vincent. He was standing in the rain without an umbrella, worry clear on his face.

Cars rushed past, horns blaring.

I looked at him, but I couldn’t speak. The weight in my chest finally broke me.

Right there on the sidewalk, in the pouring rain, I sank to the ground and sobbed — loud, ugly, uncontrollable sobs. For Zara. For her parents. For every child who never got to grow up.

People slowed down. Some stared. Some whispered.

Then the rain suddenly stopped hitting me.

I lifted my head.

Vincent was standing over me, holding an umbrella above my head while the rain poured down on his own shoulders. He had taken off his jacket and draped it around me.

He didn’t tell me to stop crying.

He didn’t tell me to be strong.

He simply stood there — tall, silent, and steady — shielding me from both the rain and the eyes of strangers.

And for the first time since it all began, I let myself fall apart completely… safe under the warmth of his coat and the quiet protection of his presence.