Heather had barely lowered herself into the chair again when the door creaked open behind her.
She blinked, quickly wiping the dampness from her cheeks with the sleeve of her cardigan, willing herself to look composed.
Maybe it was another nurse, she thought. Someone bringing in medicine or checking a chart.
He walked in quietly, not with the brisk energy of someone delivering news, but with a kind of practiced calm that only made Heather feel more afraid.
His hands were folded gently in front of him, and though his face tried to stay neutral, something about the set of his mouth—just a little too tight—made her heart start to race.
"The surgeon has arrived," he said.
Caius stood from his place in the corner, straightening as if the room had shifted under his feet. "I thought you said he was coming in the morning."
"He was already in the city," the doctor explained softly. "We contacted him after the scans. He cleared his schedule."
He didn’t say more than that, but he didn’t need to. His tone said enough. This wasn’t a matter of convenience, it was more like urgency.
Heather’s fingers curled into the material of her dress, tightening as her stomach began to twist.
"I’d advise you both to prepare yourselves," the doctor said, glancing at Alex’s small frame on the bed. "We’ll be moving him to the ward shortly."
Heather didn’t answer. She simply turned toward her son.
Alex was lying quietly, his face half-lit by the pale light overhead. The blankets were pulled around him like a cocoon, as though they could shield him from everything that was about to happen.
He wasn’t sleeping—his eyes were open—but he hadn’t spoken since the earlier conversation.
He just looked tired. Worn out in a way no child should ever look.
Heather could only stare at him. She wasn’t sure what to do.
What did a mother say in a moment ?
She leaned in, brushing the hair back from his forehead. She was fighting so hard to keep herself composed but her hands trembled.
She didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t know how to fix anything. She just wanted to hold him and never let go.
Alex turned his head slightly toward her, his lashes fluttering.
"Mommy..." he said, so softly it was almost a breath. "Am I dying?"
Heather stopped breathing.
It wasn’t just the words—it was the way he said them. He wasn’t panicking, neither was he crying.
He was just asking. Like he already had the answer and only needed her to confirm it.
"Why do you ask that?" she asked, her voice cracked as she stroked his temple.
Alex’s eyes dropped to the blanket, then back up to her.
The room felt colder. Still. As if time had paused around that sentence.
Heather’s hand stilled.
"I... I don’t know, baby," she whispered, her throat ached. "I wish I did."
Alex didn’t answer straight away. He turned his face toward the window, but his gaze was distant, as though he couldn’t really see it.
Then, in a voice even smaller than before, he said, "I don’t want to die."
Heather bent her head, unable to hold back the tears this time.
She pressed her lips to his fingers and squeezed his hand gently, trying not to grip too hard.
He was so small, and his skin felt so warm and fragile.
She would give anything—anything—to trade places with him.
Caius walked closer to the bed, his shadow stretched long across the floor. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood beside them, looking down at his son.
"You’re not going to," he said at last. His voice was calm and certain. There was no tremble in it, no fear. "I won’t let that happen."
Alex looked up at him and then at Heather. His fingers curled around hers, weak but deliberate. He was trying to hold on.
Heather didn’t look at Caius right away. Her voice was low when she spoke.
"I’m sorry I yelled earlier," she said. "I didn’t know what to say to him. I still don’t."
She turned her face toward him then. Her eyes were red, and her cheeks streaked with tears.
She looked like someone who had been hollowed out by grief, and had nothing left to give except love.
Caius didn’t reply. His jaw was tight, and something passed through his eyes, but he only gave a short nod, like words weren’t needed.
And maybe they weren’t.
The door opened again.
The doctor walked back in, this time with two nurses. He didn’t speak at first. Just looked at the machines for a while.
Heather thought he was lost. Then his eyes went down at Alex. He looked so pitiful as he looked back at them.
"I know this is a lot," he said gently, his voice low, almost like he didn’t want the walls to hear. "But if there’s anything you want to do for him... now’s the time."
Heather’s stomach dropped. The way he said it. He wasn’t even sure they understood just how serious it was.
Or maybe he wasn’t sure how to soften the truth any more than he already had.
"I’ll give you ten minutes," he added, then left them alone again.
The silence he left behind felt different this time. Like it meant something.
Heather couldn’t stop watching the door.
She kept wondering—did he think Alex wouldn’t make it? He hadn’t said it out loud, but he didn’t have to.
Did he tell Caius? She saw it in his face. In the way he couldn’t meet her eyes for too long. Or even how he lowered his voice before he spoke.
She wasn’t ready and didn’t know how to be.
Heather turned quickly. Alex’s voice was thinner now. Almost like he was slipping again.
She gripped his small hand tighter. That was when she noticed his skin—it was cooler than before.
His eyes were on her. They had been, even when the doctor had walked in. He hadn’t looked away once.
"I don’t think I can make it," he said slowly.
Heather leaned in, her face hovering close to his, as if being near him would keep him here a little longer.
"Baby, don’t say that," she said, too quickly. Her voice was sharp, and too loud in the room. She didn’t mean to yell—but the fear inside her had nowhere else to go.
Alex didn’t flinch. He just kept looking at her with eyes that were far too wise for his age.
"I... I have one last wish."
She leaned in, bringing her face closer to his.
She didn’t know what he was about to say, but she already felt the ache forming behind her ribs.