The sound of the nurse’s footsteps faded down the hall, leaving the room draped in stillness that felt heavy but somehow less suffocating than before. The faint beep of the monitors provided a steady rhythm, like a heartbeat keeping time. I focused on the slight rise and fall of Dad’s chest, the way his hand felt warm and steady against mine. He’d always had this quiet strength, the kind that didn’t demand attention but made you feel like the world couldn’t topple you entirely when he was around.
I glanced at the IV bag hanging beside his bed, the clear liquid dripping in regular intervals, its quiet presence an unspoken reminder of everything happening under the surface. Dad caught me staring, his tired eyes crinkling slightly at the corners in something that almost resembled amusement.
