Evan stood frozen, his breath hitching as something cool and delicate wrapped around his chest. He glanced down to find a slender, pale arm draped over him—skin so ghostly white it seemed almost translucent beneath the hospital's harsh lights. Vibrant beaded bracelets adorned the wrist, their bright colors clashing against the deep bruises peeking out from underneath.

  A soft, quivering voice broke the spell.

  “T-thank you so much, sir…”

  The words whispered against his back, trembled with emotion.

  Evan turned sharply, heart pounding, only to be met with a pair of striking blue eyes, glossy with unshed tears. Mascara-streaked trails ran down her cheeks like ink bleeding onto paper, yet there was something warm—something familiar—about her presence. Then, the scent hit him. Sweet, floral… cherry blossoms. The same fragrance that had lingered in the air when he’d helped the distressed mother earlier.

  A flicker of something unfamiliar ignited in his chest—connection.

  "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she cried, her voice rising with raw gratitude. “Without you, I’d still be stuck waiting in line! I don’t know what I would’ve done!”

  Evan let out a small, sheepish chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, it was nothing, really. I saw you had a baby, and—I don’t know. It just felt right to step in. It was kind of… liberating, actually.” He smirked, a little surprised at the confession. “I’m just glad everyone actually listened and let you through.”

  Her expression softened, relief washing over her like a gentle tide. “Me too. Thanks to you, my baby is going to be okay.”

  He shook his head. “Nah, that’s all thanks to the doctor. I just got you through the line.”

  “The doctor said he doesn’t have any major internal injuries—just a few stitches, and he’ll be fine.”

  Evan exhaled slowly, as if releasing the weight of a burden that wasn’t even his to carry. “That’s great. I can’t even imagine how stressful that must’ve been.”

  As the tension between them eased, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a crisp business card, pressing it into his palm. The paper felt foreign in his hand, like a token from a life far removed from his own.

  “I owe you one,” she said with a grateful smile. “I’m a lawyer. If you ever find yourself in any kind of legal trouble, call me.”

  He glanced at the card: Karen Bridges, Attorney at Law.

  “Got it,” he said, slipping it into his pocket.

  They exchanged goodbyes, and as Evan turned back toward the sea of hospital chaos, something lingered in the air—something almost grounding.

  "Wow, looks like I’m a popular guy today," Evan muttered to himself as he pulled out his phone. His cracked screen flickered to life, revealing an onslaught of missed calls and texts. Over thirty messages, nearly fifty missed calls—most from family members desperately trying to reach his mom.

  He scrolled through the chaos until one text caught his eye.

  "Babe, if you’re dead, I’m going to kill you!"

  A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Kyra.

  Without hesitation, he tapped the call button. The line barely rang twice before her frantic voice burst through the speaker.

  “Oh my God, babe! Are you okay? You weren’t answering! I was worried sick!”

  Evan let out a tired chuckle. “Babe, I’m fine.” He leaned against a cold hospital wall, letting his eyes drift shut for a moment. “Sorry I didn’t answer—it’s been absolute chaos over here.”

  “I can’t believe there was an earthquake in Florida! That’s insane! I saw the news, and my heart dropped. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Well…” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It’s a little more complicated than that. My brother… he’s in the hospital.”

  The line fell silent for a moment. Then, her voice softened. “Oh my God, babe… I’m so sorry. Have you heard anything?”

  “Not much. He’s awake, the bleeding stopped, but… the hospital’s overwhelmed. We’re still waiting on a real update.”

  Kyra sighed, the worry evident in the way her breath hitched. “I wish I could be there for you.”

  He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Me too.

  They talked for a while longer, her voice a temporary anchor in the storm of his mind. But eventually, duty called.

  “Babe, I gotta go. My mom needs my phone—she forgot hers at home.”

  “Okay,” she said reluctantly. “Just… keep me posted, okay?”

  “I will. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Click.

  As Evan made his way back toward the entrance, his steps felt heavier than before. His body ached, exhaustion weighing him down like wet cement. But just as he reached the hospital doors, a voice cut through the noise.

  "Hey, kid!"

  He turned, brows furrowing as he spotted a familiar figure leaning against a trash can, cigarette in hand.

  The nurse. The one who had been snappy with him earlier.

  She took a long drag before flicking the cigarette away and straightening up. “Listen, I just wanted to say—I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. That was unprofessional.” Her voice, though rough around the edges, held genuine remorse. “We’re just… under a lot of stress right now.”

  Evan blinked, caught off guard. “Oh—uh, no, don’t worry about it. If anything, I should be the one apologizing. It was rude of me to snap back.” He hesitated before adding, “Thanks for helping me get my nephew and brother checked in so quickly.”

  A small smile tugged at her lips. “No problem, Mr… uh…” She glanced at her clipboard.

  “Pettway. Evan Pettway.”

  She nodded. “Nice to officially meet you, Mr. Pettway.”

  “Nancy, right?” He gestured to her name tag.

  “Yep.”

  They shook hands, and with that, she disappeared into the chaos once more.

  Back inside, the weight of exhaustion was quickly replaced by dread as Evan stepped into his family’s hospital room.

  The moment the door swung open, a piercing wail shattered the air.

  “Waaaaaahhh! I don’t wanna, nooooo!”

  Evan’s stomach sank. His nephew, Essiya, was in full meltdown mode, his tiny face blotchy and wet with tears.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “The doctor came while you were gone,” Mom explained over the commotion, her voice tight with exhaustion. “He said there’s no serious damage, but…” She exhaled. “Essiya needs stitches.”

  Another ear-splitting wail.

  After handing his phone to his mother, Evan crouched beside the child, forcing a grin. “Hey now, little man. It’s not that bad! Could be way worse.”

  Essiya shot him a watery glare. “Easy for you to say! Your big belly cushioned you from getting hurt!”

  Evan snorted. “Damn, kid. That’s cold.”

  “Essiya!” Mom scolded.

  But Evan just laughed. “Alright, alright. Tell you what—if you keep crying, I’m gonna tell Kyra’s little sister that you’re just a big ol’ crybaby who’s scared of a little scratch.”

  Essiya hiccupped, momentarily distracted. “No, you won’t!”

  “Try me.”

  Essiya's hands curled into tiny fists, his face crumpling as fresh tears spilled over his cheeks. "I want my daddy! Where's my daddy?" His cries echoed through the sterile hospital room, a sound so raw it seemed to vibrate in the air, pressing heavy on everyone’s chest.

  Evan swallowed hard, his own nerves knotting in his stomach.

  "Yeah, did the doctor say anything about Donovan?" he asked, his voice laced with an urgency that matched the storm brewing in his chest. The question hung in the air, thick with an unspoken dread.

  His mother exhaled shakily, her grip tightening around Evan's phone as if the device alone could anchor her. "He said he's not handling Donovan," she admitted, her voice cracking like fractured glass. "He said Dr. Gupta is handling it now due to It possibly being a… spinal injury."

  The weight of those words sent a shiver through Evan. Spinal. The very thought carried a dark finality, a threat lurking in the spaces between his mother’s trembling syllables.

  "He said Dr. Gupta will be in shortly with news"

  Evan’s stomach clenched. His mind reeled, suddenly flooded with the echoes of his childhood—of Donovan laughing, throwing him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing, of late-night wrestling matches and whispered dares that always got them both in trouble. Donovan, who had always been as steady as a rock, the one who never seemed to break. And now? The thought of his brother—his protector—lying somewhere in this hospital, fragile and uncertain, made his breath hitch.

  He sank into a chair, his fingers threading through his hair as his mother turned her attention to Essiya. Her touch was gentle as she stroked his back, her voice a hushed whisper of comfort.

  "Oh, so has anyone tried to call us?"

  "Yeah," Evan nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Auntie, Grandpa, some cousins… family friends too."

  Her shoulders lifted with a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. "I hope everyone's safe." She hesitated, then stood, determination pulling her upright. "I'm going to step outside and make a few calls. Can you stay here with Essiya?"

  "Yeah, of course," Evan said, straightening in his seat. Even though the weight of responsibility pressed against him, he welcomed it—it was something to focus on, something to keep his mind from spiraling.

  As his mother disappeared through the door, Essiya’s voice broke through the quiet. "Is my dad gonna be okay?" His words were barely a whisper, yet they carried the weight of the world. His wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto Evan’s, desperate for reassurance.

  Evan knelt beside him, wrapping an arm around his small shoulders. "Your dad’s tough, little man," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside him. "He’s gonna get through this."

  Essiya sniffled, rubbing at his face with the sleeve of his too-big hoodie. "Are… are the stitches gonna hurt?" His voice wavered, teetering on the edge of another breakdown.

  Evan forced a grin, "Nah, the doctor will numb you up. You won’t feel a thing."

  Essiya’s lip quivered. "You promise?"

  "Of course!" Evan reassured him. "They’ll just give you a good numbing shot, and—"

  Essiya’s entire body went rigid. His eyes widened in sheer horror.

  "S…shot? Nooo!"

  A wail tore from his throat as he launched into hysterics, tears spilling faster, his arms flailing in panic.

  Evan’s stomach sank. *Shit, shouldn't have said that*

  He winced as Essiya’s cries filled the room again, louder than before, drawing sympathetic glances from passing nurses.

  Well… that backfired.

  The crying was short-lived, though, as a knock sounded at the door.

  Dr. Gupta stepped inside, his expression unreadable. “Hello everyone, I have an update on Donovan Honesty.”

  The air in the room shifted, thickening like a dense fog. Evan's pulse hammered against his ribs.

  "Is he okay?" The words barely made it past his lips.

  The doctor’s gaze was steady. “He has suffered blunt force trauma to the head… and there’s a possibility of spinal damage.”

  A chill crawled down Evan’s spine.

  Spinal damage.

  And just like that, the fragile grip he had on his composure began to slip.

  "Is it bad? Doc, tell me he's going to be okay!" Evan's voice wavered, each syllable laced with desperation. His chest felt tight, his pulse hammering against his ribs as he searched Dr. Gupta’s face for any sign of reassurance.

  Dr. Gupta exhaled, his expression unreadable, his voice steady yet devoid of false comfort. "At this moment, there's no way to tell. He needs specialized spinal treatment. We’ll be transferring him to another hospital."

  Spinal treatment. The words slammed into Evan like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from his lungs. His mind raced, grasping for something solid in the midst of the uncertainty. Donovan was strong. Unbreakable. But now? The unknown loomed like a dark chasm, threatening to swallow them whole.

  "When... when should we get an update?" His voice came out quieter this time, barely above a whisper, as though saying it too loudly might make the reality worse.

  Dr. Gupta checked his watch before meeting Evan’s gaze. "He’s being transported to Miami. They’ll see him as soon as possible, but expect an update in 24 to 48 hours."

  A hollow ache settled in Evan’s chest. That’s too long. Every second stretched endlessly, time twisting cruelly around his uncertainty. He swallowed hard and nodded, though the motion felt mechanical, his body moving on autopilot.

  "For now, we're transferring Essiya to another room to treat his gash," Dr. Gupta continued as the door opened, a nurse rolling in a stretcher.

  Essiya’s face crumpled the moment he saw it. "No! No, I don't wanna go!" Tears welled in his wide, fearful eyes, his small hands gripping Evan’s sleeve as if letting go would send him spiraling into something unknown and terrifying.

  Dr. Gupta crouched beside him, his voice dipping into something softer. "Everything’s going to be okay, buddy. You’re going to be brave, just like your dad, right?"

  Essiya sniffled, hesitating before nodding, though his grip on Evan remained firm.

  Dr. Gupta turned back to Evan. "You can wait in the waiting room. It shouldn’t take longer than an hour."

  The words barely registered as Evan pried Essiya’s fingers from his arm, watching helplessly as the nurse guided him onto the stretcher. His cries echoed in the hallway as they wheeled him away, each sound like a knife twisting deeper into Evan’s gut.

  The moment they disappeared, Mom reappeared, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for answers that weren’t there.

  "Where’s Donovan? What did the doctor say?" she asked, her breath uneven.

  Evan swallowed against the lump in his throat, forcing himself to repeat the doctor’s words, though each syllable felt like a betrayal. Nothing he said could offer the comfort she needed—because there was no comfort, only waiting.

  The Waiting Room

  Time stretched unbearably in the waiting room, each second dragging like an anchor tied to Evan’s chest. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed incessantly, casting everything in an artificial glow that made the exhaustion settling into his bones feel even heavier. The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to the air, mixing with the low murmur of voices and the occasional distant cry of a patient in another room.

  Evan shifted in his chair, restless. Every creak of the hospital floor, every passing nurse, sent a jolt of anticipation through him—news, it had to be news—but the updates never came. Anxiety gnawed at him, a quiet, persistent beast lurking just beneath the surface.

  Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Nurse Nancy approached, her face calm but unreadable. Beside him, Mom straightened, gripping the edge of her seat.

  "Alright, everything went smoothly," the nurse assured, offering a small, professional smile. She handed Mom a plastic bag filled with medication and gauze. "Instructions are inside. Expect an update on Donovan within 24 to 48 hours. Thank you for your patience."

  Evan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Not relief—just… something to fill the space between panic and exhaustion.

  Mom muttered a quiet "thank you" before standing, her movements stiff with fatigue. Evan followed suit, and together, they made their way toward the exit, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on them like an invisible force.

  Going Home

  Stepping outside felt surreal. The night air was crisp, carrying a faint scent of rain, a stark contrast to the suffocating sterility of the hospital. Evan pulled in a breath, but it did little to ease the tightness in his chest.

  The drive home was silent, the kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful but heavy—too full of everything left unsaid.

  The moment they stepped through the front door, the house felt… different. Off. As if the very foundation of their lives had shifted while they were gone. The lights were still on, casting a dim glow over the living room, but nothing felt familiar anymore. The mess from earlier still remained—discarded blankets, overturned chairs, and broken plates of food scattered the floor—but it wasn’t just clutter now. It was evidence of the chaos that had torn through their world.

  Mom led Essiya upstairs without a word, too drained to start cleaning the mess, too overwhelmed to care. Evan lingered for a moment, his gaze drifting over the space that no longer felt like home, before dragging himself toward his room.

  The second he hit the bed, exhaustion wrapped around him like a weighted blanket. His body ached, his mind racing even as his limbs felt too heavy to move.

  He reached for his phone, his fingers hovering over Kyra’s name before finally typing out a message:

  No update yet. Still waiting.

  As soon as he sent it, the adrenaline that had kept him going all night finally crashed, leaving behind an empty, gnawing exhaustion. His head sank into the pillow, but sleep didn’t come easily.

  Instead, his mind replayed everything—the fear in Essiya’s eyes, Mom’s trembling hands, Donovan’s unmoving body on that stretcter. *What if he never walks again? What if*—

  Evan squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t go there. Not yet.

  His last thought before exhaustion finally pulled him under was a silent prayer.

  A prayer for his brother. A prayer for hope.

  A prayer that morning would bring good news.