I thought I’d lost her. I stood outside the glass wall for what felt like hours, counting every mechanical beep like it was the only thing tethering her to this world. My hand was locked with Dana’s, but I didn’t feel it. My fingers were ice. My chest was tight. My knees threatened to buckle every time her monitors slowed, even just slightly.
My grandma looked… small. Smaller than I’d ever seen her. Fragile in a way that felt unfair. She wasn’t the woman who raised me, scolded me for skipping lunch, or laughed loudest at her own terrible jokes. No. This woman lying still under too many wires and too much white linen was someone else entirely, someone fading. I hated it. And just when I thought I’d have to walk through the rest of my life with this ache in my chest, the doctor stepped out.
“She’s stable,” he said, calm but firm. “Still weak. But she’s fighting.”
I didn’t hear the rest, I didn’t need to. My body crumpled forward, and Dana who somehow arrived in time caught me just in time. I sobbed into her shoulder, not out of relief, not at first. Just release. My ribs had been clenched so tight around the fear that the second he said she’s fighting, everything shattered. She was alive, my grandma was alive.
I didn’t sleep that night. Couldn’t. My eyes stung, but I refused to leave her side. I sat beside her bed, one hand wrapped around hers, the other fiddling with my phone in case anything changed. Her skin was cool, but she was warm. Still breathing. Still here.
“You scared the crap out of me,” I whispered, squeezing her hand gently. “You better have nine lives, old woman.”
She didn’t respond, just slept. And I watched her chest rise and fall like it was the most beautiful rhythm in the world. I should’ve felt peace. But life doesn’t like giving you peace. Not for long. My phone buzzed in my lap. Just one notification. I almost didn’t check. My brain was mush. My heart was already exhausted. But curiosity is a traitor. So I looked.
“Ives Mercer Spotted Getting Cozy With Ex. Rebound or Real Love?” I didn’t breathe. The image took a second to load. But when it did, everything stopped. Him, Ava, her hand curled possessively on his chest, and her mouth inches from his. His lips… On hers.
His smile. Relaxed, soft, happy, like I never happened. Like I was a placeholder for the woman he always wanted back. I stared at the screen. And stared. Dana had just walked back into the room with two coffees when she looked over my shoulder.
“Oh my God. Marla-”
But I didn’t answer, I couldn't. Because I’d stopped blinking. I was frozen in place, like if I just stared long enough, the pixels would rearrange themselves. The headline would change. The truth would rewrite itself, but it didn't, and the dam broke.
I clutched my stomach as if someone had driven a knife straight through it. My body curled inward, and the sob that tore out of my throat didn’t sound human. It was pain, ugly, raw, humiliating pain. Dana dropped the coffees, didn’t say a word and just sat beside me and held me while I unraveled.
I wasn’t crying because he kissed her. I was crying because while I was holding my grandmother’s hand, begging the universe not to take her away from me, he was kissing the one woman he swore meant nothing. That wasn’t just betrayal, that was cruelty. Dressed up in designer suits and press coverage, that was public abandonment.