Inside the bay, I pulled the chair as close to Meghan’s gurney as I could, fingers threading through hers beneath the blankets. Her skin felt cool, paper-thin. Her lashes fluttered when the nurses adjusted the machines and murmured questions she could barely answer.
“I’m not leaving you,” I whispered, low enough that it stayed between us. “Not this time. Not ever again.”
The words scraped in my throat. They weren’t just for her, they were for me. A vow that I would never go back to before... the smaller version of myself who had endured without fighting.
The room around me was too bright. The white lights didn’t soften; they punished. Shadows carved across the curtains, slicing through every small tremor of movement. The scent of antiseptic stung the back of my throat. Machines hummed a
