SASHA’S POV
The sterile smell of the hospital clung to my senses as I sat in the stiff chair beside my father’s bed.
His chest rose and fell in slow, mechanical movements, the ventilator doing the work his body couldn’t.
The faint beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room, a constant reminder of the thin thread his life hung by.
I reached out, clasping his hand in mine, careful not to disturb the IV taped to his wrist. His fingers felt cool to the touch, and I tried to warm them with my own.
“Dad,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Can you hear me? It’s Sasha. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
The same silence greeted me, as it had for the past week. Ever since that one flicker of movement-his hand tightening around mine when the doctors were adjusting his machines-there had been nothing.
No sign of awareness, no twitch of his fingers, no flutter of his eyelids. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, willing myself not to cry.
“Miss Sasha,” a soft voice interrupted.
I looked up to see one of the nurses standing in the doorway, her expression kind but tired. Her hands were clasped in front of her as though bracing herself to deliver bad news.
I straightened in my chair. “Is something wrong?”
The nurse shook her head quickly. “No, nothing has changed. I just came to check on you.” She hesitated, then added,
“You’ve been here all day. Maybe it’s time to go home and get some rest.”
“I’m fine,” I replied, my voice firmer than I intended.
Her gaze softened. “I know you want to be here for him, but you need to take care of yourself too. If there’s any change, we’ll call you immediately.”
I hesitated, torn between my need to stay by my father’s side and the weight of the nurse’s words.
She was right. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and my body felt heavy with exhaustion. But leaving felt like giving up, like abandoning him when he needed me the most.
“I’ll think about it,” I said finally, though I wasn’t sure I meant it.
The nurse gave me a small smile. “You’re a good daughter. He’s lucky to have you.” With that, she turned and left, leaving me alone with my father once again.
I leaned back in my chair, my eyes burning from lack of sleep. “Dad,” I whispered again, my voice barely audible.
“Please… just one more sign. Anything to let me know you’re still in there.”
The steady beep of the monitor was my only answer.
After another hour of sitting in silence, the nurse’s words began to sink in. Maybe going home for a while wouldn’t be the worst thing.
I could shower, eat something, and try to sleep. If anything happened, I’d be only a phone call away.
Standing reluctantly, I bent down and pressed a kiss to my father’s forehead. “I’ll be back soon,” I promised. “Don’t you dare give up on me, okay?”
With one last glance at him, I grabbed my bag and made my way out of the hospital.
The crisp evening air hit me as I stepped outside, a sharp contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the hospital. My car was parked a few blocks away, and I walked slowly, my thoughts a jumble of worry and exhaustion.
By the time I got home, the weight of the day had settled heavily on my shoulders.
The apartment was dark and quiet, the silence amplifying my loneliness. I dropped my bag by the door and headed straight for the kitchen, too tired to even turn on the lights.
I poured myself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as I sipped it. My thoughts drifted to Sebastian, as they always did when I was alone.
He hadn’t called or texted all day, but I told myself he was just busy. His work always demanded so much of him, and I couldn’t blame him for that.
Setting the glass down, I pulled out my phone and scrolled to his number. My thumb hovered over the call button for a moment before I pressed it.
The phone rang twice before going straight to voicemail.
“Hey, it’s me,” I said after the beep. “I just wanted to hear your voice. Call me when you get a chance, okay? I miss you.”
I hung up and stared at the phone in my hand, willing it to ring. When it didn’t, I sighed and set it down on the counter.
Deciding to distract myself, I opened my laptop and sat down at the small dining table.
I had been applying for jobs online for weeks, trying to find something flexible enough to allow me to spend time at the hospital. So far, nothing has panned out. But I couldn’t give up.
I was halfway through filling out yet another application when my phone buzzed.
My heart leapt, hoping it was Sebastian, but when I glanced at the screen, my stomach dropped. It wasn’t him. It was Roland.
For a moment, I debated letting it go to voicemail. Roland wasn’t exactly someone I wanted to talk to right now, not with everything else going on. But curiosity got the better of me, and I answered.
“Hello?”
“Sasha,” Roland’s deep voice came through the line, smooth as ever. “I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”
“It’s fine,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if it was true. “What do you want?”
“I heard about your father,” he said, his tone laced with what sounded like genuine concern. “I just wanted to check on you. See how you’re holding up.”
“I’m fine,” I said automatically, though the words felt hollow.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “You don’t sound fine.”
I closed my laptop and leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples. “It’s just been a long day, Roland. What do you really want?”
“I’m not here to bother you,” he said quickly. “I just thought you might need someone to talk to. Someone who understands what you’re going through.”
I frowned, unsure of what he meant by that. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been through something similar,” he admitted.
“My father was in a coma for months before he passed. I know how hard it is, waiting and hoping for a miracle that might never come.”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I hadn’t allowed myself to think about the possibility of my father not making it, but hearing Roland say it out loud made it feel real. Too real.
“I’m sorry,” he added quickly, as though sensing my discomfort. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted you to know you’re not alone.”
I swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. “Thank you,” I said finally. “That… means a lot.”
“If you ever need to talk, or if there’s anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to call me,” he said.
“Thanks, Roland,” I said again, softer this time. “I appreciate it.”
We ended the call shortly after, and I sat staring at my phone for a long time. Part of me was grateful for Roland’s concern, but another part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that his motives weren’t entirely selfless.
Pushing the thought aside, I stood and headed for the shower, hoping the hot water would wash away the heaviness that had settled over me.
But even as the steam filled the bathroom, I couldn’t stop thinking about Sebastian and the unanswered questions lingering in the back of my mind.