CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 46
Mila
The sound didn’t end.
That was the first thing I noticed.
I was screaming, someone was shouting my name, hands were gripping my arms, but the sound, that long, merciless note, kept slicing through everything like a blade.
Flat.
Flat.
Flat.
“No—no, no, no!” I sobbed, my voice breaking into something animal. “Please...please...she’s right here, she’s right here...”
A nurse pushed gently but firmly against my shoulders. “Ma’am, you need to move back.”
“I’m her sister!” I screamed. “That’s my sister...don’t touch her like that!”
Jade wrapped her arms around me from behind, holding me as my knees buckled. I fought her at first, thrashing, reaching for Mary, but my body betrayed me. Strength drained out of me all at once, leaving only terror and grief and a hollow, aching disbelief.
Doctors crowded around the bed.
“Charging...”
“Clear!”
My head snapped up.
A sharp crack split the air as Mary’s body jerked under the shock. The sound punched the breath out of my lungs.
“Oh God,” I whispered, tears blinding me. “Mary… please…”
Beep.
Nothing.
Again.
“Charging...”
“Clear!”
Another jolt. Her body arched slightly, then fell still.
I couldn’t watch anymore.
I buried my face into Jade’s shoulder, sobbing violently, my fingers fisting in her jacket like it was the only thing keeping me from drowning.
“I can’t...” I gasped. “I can’t lose her...please...”
Time stretched into something cruel and shapeless.
Seconds felt like hours. Hours felt like entire lifetimes collapsing in on themselves.
Then...
Beep.
I froze.
Beep.
Beep.
The sound was weak. Uneven. But it was there.
My head snapped up so fast my neck hurt.
The monitor flickered back to life, jagged lines crawling shakily across the screen.
“She’s back,” someone said.
My breath left me in a broken sob.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Oh my God...”
Doctors moved fast, voices overlapping, hands adjusting machines, checking vitals, calling out numbers. I stood there shaking, barely breathing, watching Mary’s chest rise and fall in shallow, mechanical motions.
She was alive.
Barely.
But alive.
After what felt like forever, the chaos slowed. The alarms quieted, replaced once again by the steady, fragile rhythm of the machines.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
A doctor turned toward me, same one from earlier, his face grave, eyes tired.
“Mrs. Armstrong,” he said gently. “We were able to stabilize her.”
My legs nearly gave out again.
“She’s… she’s okay?” I asked desperately. “She’s going to wake up now, right?”
The way his expression shifted, subtle, careful, made my heart sink before he even spoke.
“She’s still in a coma,” he said. “And this episode was severe.”
I swallowed hard. “But… she survived.”
“Yes,” he said slowly. “But her heart is under a lot of strain. These episodes may become more frequent.”
The room felt suddenly too small.
“What does that mean?” I whispered.
“It means,” he said carefully, “that we’re entering a more critical phase of her condition. We’re doing everything we can...but there are no guarantees.”
No guarantees.
The words felt like a death sentence spoken softly.
I nodded numbly, tears slipping down my cheeks without resistance. “Can I… can I stay with her?”
“Of course,” he said. “But she needs rest. No stimulation.”
I nodded again, barely hearing him as he stepped away.
When the room finally emptied, it was just us again.
Mary.
Jade.
Me.
I approached the bed slowly, like I was afraid she might disappear if I moved too fast. I took Mary’s hand in mine, it was warm, but limp, unresponsive.
I pressed my forehead gently to her knuckles.
“You scared me,” I whispered hoarsely. “You’re not allowed to do that.”
My voice trembled, a hysterical laugh slipping out between sobs.
“You’re always the strong one,” I continued softly. “You’re supposed to stay. You promised.”
Jade stood quietly behind me, giving me space, her presence steady and grounding.
“I need you,” I whispered to Mary, my tears dripping onto the sheets. “I don’t know how to do this without you. I don’t know how to be brave alone.”
The machines answered for her.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Hours passed like that, me talking to her in fragments, memories spilling out, apologies I didn’t even know I was carrying.
At some point, exhaustion dragged me down. I slumped into the chair beside her bed, my fingers still wrapped tightly around hers.
When I woke, the room was dimmer.
Evening light filtered through the blinds.
For a moment, I forgot where I was.
Then the machines reminded me.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
I straightened abruptly, my heart racing.
Mary looked the same.
Still.
Silent.
But something felt… different.
I leaned closer, studying her face. Her brow was faintly furrowed, like she was dreaming something unpleasant.
“Mary?” I whispered.
Nothing.
Then...
Her fingers twitched.
Just slightly.
I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Mary?” I whispered again, my voice barely audible.
Her hand didn’t move again, but the monitor shifted slightly, the rhythm adjusting.
I froze, afraid to move, afraid to hope.
Jade noticed immediately. “Mila… did you see that?”
“I...” My voice shook. “I think so.”
A nurse was called. Then a doctor.
They checked her vitals, her pupils, the machines.
“There’s been a slight change in her brain activity,” the doctor said cautiously. “It doesn’t mean she’s waking up, but it does mean she’s responding.”
Responding.
The word wrapped around my heart like fragile glass.
“She can hear me,” I whispered.
“It’s possible,” he said gently.
After they left, I leaned in close again, my lips near her ear.
“If you can hear me,” I whispered, “you have to stay. Even if you’re tired. Even if it hurts.”
My throat closed.
“I’ll wait,” I promised her. “As long as it takes.”
The machines kept their quiet vigil.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
And for the first time since Lance’s voice had shattered my world with that "Not yet" he said as if telling me she was going to die soon enough
I let myself believe that Mary hadn’t left me yet.