It was the day of Milo’s surgery, the day that had crept into everyone’s chest like a cold, restless wind. The early morning sky was heavy with mist, and the hospital halls buzzed with the quiet footsteps of nurses and the faint beeping of machines.
In front of the ICU, they all gathered together — Ruby, Julian, Karl, and Adrian stood shoulder to shoulder, eyes drifting to the double doors every few seconds. Angeline and her husband’s came too, their hands folded tightly in front of them as if they were holding back all their unspoken prayers. Even Pillu was there, standing there in the corner but determined to stay, his worried eyes flicking from one familiar face to the next.
Healer, who was in charge of the operation, was genuinely taken aback when She stepped into the hallway and saw the quiet crowd.
She paused for a second, looking at the line of people, all there for one fragile boy who smiled at them like they’d hung the stars in the sky for him. It wasn’t every day you saw this many stand vigil for one patient.
Inside the small prep room, Milo sat on the cold bed in his light red surgery gown, his tiny legs dangling off the side. His hair had been brushed gently by Ruby earlier, his face was pale but his brown eyes were round and warm as always. When the nurse pushed the door open to let everyone peek in one by one, Milo’s eyes went wide — really wide as he spotted them all.
Ruby gave him a watery smile and pressed her palm to the glass, Julian did the same right beside her, his lips moving silently as if reminding Milo to breathe slowly. Karl waved with both hands, wiping his eyes on his sleeve when he thought no one saw. Adrian just stood there stiff and still, but his dark eyes shone like he’d been holding his breath since they arrived.
Milo’s throat bobbed as he bit his lip to stop himself from crying right there — his chest ached, but not from the hole in his heart. It ached from seeing how many people cared enough to stand there for him. He pressed his small palm to the glass, lining it up with Ruby’s, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he mouthed, "I’ll be back soon."
When the double doors finally swung shut behind Milo and the healer team, a heavy silence settled over the hallway like a thick blanket none of them could shake off. The little blinking red sign above the ICU door — Surgery in Progress felt like it was drilling a hole straight into everyone’s chest.
Julian sat hunched forward, elbows braced on his knees, his hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles had gone pale. Inside, he felt like his heart was rattling too fast, every worst fear crawling up his throat. But he forced himself to breathe evenly — he didn’t want to let his panic spill out, didn’t want to infect Ruby and Karl and Adrian with the negative emotions inside him.
The nurses and a kind young staff witch had quickly prepared some simple chairs and a table with warm water and tissues. It looked so normal it almost felt cruel. Karl sat slumped in his seat, hugging his knees to his chest like a child, his eyes red and puffy but too dry for tears now. Pillu quietly passed him a small candy, trying to distract him, but Karl only stared at it, lost in his own world.
Angeline sat right beside Ruby, her hand gently rubbing slow circles on Ruby’s back. "Breathe, Ru," she murmured, her voice steady, like she was trying to hold the whole group together with her calm alone. "It’ll be alright. Milo is strong."
Ruby nodded, but her lips were pressed tight, her eyes unfocused on the floor tiles. A single bead of sweat slid down her temple despite the cold hallway air. Please, she thought, her mind clawing for any comfort at all. Please, just let him come back to us.
Adrian stood a little apart, leaning against the wall with his arms folded tight across his chest. He didn’t say a word, but the slight tremble in his fingers where they gripped his sleeve gave him away.
No one spoke much, every tick of the clock felt like a thunderclap in the quiet waiting room. And all they could do was hold their breath together... and wait for Milo to come back to them.
On the other side of town, in a large, stuffy room decorated with dark curtains and an air of sickly sweet perfume, Madame Shade sat lazily by her wide window. The drizzle outside tapped softly against the glass as she listened to her trusted maid whisper the news in her ear.
"Ruby’s little husband... the frail-looking one... they say he’s having surgery today."
A glint of something sharp and mean flickered in Madame Shade’s cold eyes. Her lips curved upward, though the smile never reached the deep hollows under her gaze. She let out a breathy, false sigh, tilting her head. "Oh... such a pity..." she purred, her voice thick with fake sympathy. She tapped her long, red nails against her cup, the faint sound echoing through the quiet room.
On the velvet couch nearby, her son Louis sat slumped like a big, sour lump of dough. His round cheeks puffed out in a miserable pout, eyes darting up to his mother’s face as if hoping she’d say something comforting for him but her grin made his stomach twist in a way that didn’t feel good.
No witch wanted Louis. His chubby face and heavy hands were always seen first, not his family’s money. The rejection stung him so deeply that he lashed out at others, pushing and bullying the smaller ghosts in their circles just to feel big again. But Madame Shade always smoothed it over — always made the whispers disappear with her sweet voice and nasty coin.
Now, hearing that Milo might not survive? A cruel little spark of hope bloomed in Louis’s beady eyes. He stuffed a jam pastry into his mouth, crumbs sticking to his lips as he mumbled, "If he dies, maybe I can marry Ruby." The thought made him grin... wide and greasy, like butter melting on stale bread.
—To be continued...🪄