031: Guilt

Derek's eyes scanned the sterile hospital hallway, the faint scent of antiseptic lingering in the air as he made his way towards Autumn's room. The permit in his pocket was still warm, and the memory of his recent work call buzzed faintly in the back of his mind. He clutched a small bouquet of flowers—a vibrant hibiscus—its petals soft under his fingers, intending to offer it to her as a small gesture.

His mind wandered to the last time he visited. He had managed to get Autumn her phone, the only thing that kept them connected when his work pulled him away. But he could still hear Charlie's playful jab, teasing him about always showing up empty-handed. The words hadn’t stung, but then, he felt a twinge of guilt. He could not forget Autumn's almond-shaped eyes, wide and bright despite her condition, catching his gaze like a beacon. In that instant, he wished he could fill the room with flowers, a sea of color that might make her smile just a little brighter.

Derek hadn't known what fl