Chapter 56

The hospital room feels like my world now. It’s a small, sterile space with its white walls and beeping machines, but to me, it’s a sanctuary—one where I can focus solely on my parents and block out everything else.

I sit by my dad’s bed, holding his hand as he sleeps. His face is pale, and the IV drip attached to his arm makes me ache with worry. The surgery went well, but it doesn’t feel like enough. I’m desperate for him to wake up, for him to tell me everything will be okay. My mom is in a chair beside me, her eyes red and tired, but she’s trying to stay strong for my dad. I see her looking at me occasionally, her gaze filled with concern and something else—something that makes my heart heavy.

The doctors and nurses come in and out, but their words are a blur. I nod and smile, but I’m not really listening. I’m too focused on the slow rise and fall of my dad’s chest, the steady rhythm of the heart monitor. Every beep feels like a lifeline, a reminder that he’s still here with us.

I