The monotonous hum of the classroom filled the space, the occasional scrape of a chair, the dull scratching of pencils against paper, and the faint murmur of side conversations. The air smelled faintly of whiteboard markers and old textbooks, a scent that Luna had long associated with the drag of a school day. She sat at her desk, resting her chin against her hand, eyes barely focused on the teacher's lesson as she stared out the window. The sunlight glared softly against the glass, too warm and too bright for how she felt inside.
She blinked slowly, her head heavy from the lack of sleep. The foggy remnants of her nightmare still clung to her mind, the man in the mist, the hand reaching out. She didn’t even notice the subtle vibration in her pocket at first. It was only when the ringtone blared loudly, cutting through the class like a siren, that her eyes widened.
Every head snapped in her direction.
Her phone. Ringing. Loud enough for everyone to hear.
A few students chuckled softly. Others turned with mild annoyance. The teacher’s eyes narrowed in disapproval.
“Luna.” The teacher’s voice was stern, cutting through the classroom chatter.
Her face flushed with embarrassment. She fumbled quickly to pull the phone out of her pocket, her hands clumsy as she tried to silence it. Her heart skipped when she saw the name on the screen.
“Uncle Will.”
Her fingers hovered over the decline button, but something made her hesitate. Her uncle never called during school hours. Ever. She glanced back at the teacher.
“I’m sorry. It’s my uncle… I need to take this.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the teacher caught the tension in her tone.
The teacher gave her a pointed look, clearly irritated, but reluctantly waved toward the door. “Make it quick.”
Without another word, Luna slipped out of her seat and walked out of the classroom, the weight of dozens of eyes trailing after her.
Luna didn’t remember leaving school. She didn’t remember walking through the gates or even getting into the cab. The world outside the window blurred into a series of smudged colors. Her hands were still trembling faintly in her lap, clenching and unclenching into fists, trying to keep herself grounded.
By the time she arrived at the hospital, her throat was dry, and her palms were damp with sweat. She didn’t stop at the front desk. She knew the room number by heart. She had been there before, too many times.
Her footsteps were fast, unsteady, as she walked down the sterile hallway. Her shoes tapped lightly against the polished floor, her breath shallow and uneven. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs.
When she finally reached the door, she hesitated. Her hand hovered just above the handle, fingers trembling slightly. She squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment, forcing herself to take a breath.
“She’s fine,” she whispered under her breath. “She’ll be fine.”
With a shaky exhale, she pushed the door open.
The room was quiet except for the faint, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. Her grandmother lay on the hospital bed, her frail frame barely visible beneath the thin blanket. Her breathing was steady, slow but even. The sight made Luna exhale sharply, the tension in her shoulders dropping slightly.
She was okay. For now.
“Luna.”
Her uncle’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She turned toward him. He was sitting on the chair by the window, looking as worn out as she felt. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair disheveled. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
She stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper.
“How is she?”
Her uncle rubbed his face tiredly, exhaling through his nose.
“Stable for now,” he said, voice rough with exhaustion. “But…” He let the word hang in the air, unfinished.
Luna swallowed hard. “But what?”
Her uncle’s eyes softened with something that looked like pity. “The doctors said her organs are weakening. Her heart… it’s struggling more than before. They’re doing everything they can, but…”
He trailed off, not wanting to say the rest. He didn’t have to. Luna already knew.
She sat down in the chair next to him, feeling the weight of his words settle in her chest like lead. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound in the room was the faint beeping of the monitor and the shallow breaths of the frail woman lying in the bed.
“She was asking for you,” her uncle murmured softly.
Luna’s hands tightened into fists on her lap. She stared at the blanket covering her grandmother’s small frame, her throat tight.
“She was?” Her voice cracked slightly.
Her uncle nodded. “Yeah… kept saying your name before she fell asleep. Like she knew you were coming.”
Luna blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging. She felt her chest tighten, her breath hitching slightly.
She didn’t want to cry. She refused to. But her hands were trembling. She exhaled shakily and stood up.
“I… I need some air,” she mumbled, her voice barely steady.
Her uncle gave her a small nod, understanding.
Luna stepped out into the hallway, the door closing softly behind her. She braced her hands against the cold wall, her shoulders sagging as she exhaled shakily. The familiar sterile scent of the hospital clung to her skin.
She felt herself sinking.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of her jacket, gripping tightly, as if the pressure in her hands could somehow keep the sorrow at bay. She pressed her forehead lightly against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Please… not yet,” she whispered hoarsely.
Her voice was barely audible, a fragile plea slipping into the cold, empty hallway.
She stayed like that for a long time, unmoving, breathing through the ache that sat deep in her chest. When she finally pulled herself away from the wall, her hands were trembling slightly, but she wiped her face quickly. She couldn’t fall apart. Not here.
When she reentered the room, her uncle was still sitting by the window, staring out at the darkening sky. He didn’t look at her, but his voice was quiet when he spoke.
“She’s strong, you know.”
Luna sat down beside him again. Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“I know.”
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