Chapter 91: New Year’s Eve at a Hospital (3)
The corridor outside Isabella’s sister’s room was quiet again. Not sterile and stiff like most hospitals, but quiet in the way that silence could sometimes feel like a blanket. One that covered the awkward, the raw, the uncertain, wrapping itself around two people who weren’t quite sure what to say or do anymore.
Alex and Isabella had pulled away from the hug minutes ago, but neither of them spoke. She sat on the edge of the metal bench, her shoulders slouched, head leaned lightly back against the wall, eyes closed like she was trying to block out everything for just a second. As if breathing itself took effort now.
Alex sat beside her, arms resting on his knees, hands hanging loosely. He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. Sometimes it was better to just let the silence be what it was. Sometimes words made things worse.
The truth was, he didn’t know what to say anyway. Every sentence that formed in his mind felt stupid the second it arrived. "It will be okay." How did he know that? "She’s strong." Everyone said that when they didn’t know what else to say. "I’m sorry." He’d already said that.
So he just sat there, close enough that she knew he was there, far enough that she had her own space.
The weight of her story still clung to the air, heavy and unshakable. Her sister, the accident, the surgery, the uncertainty of whether she’d ever walk again. It replayed in his mind like a looping highlight reel, except there was nothing bright or victorious about it. It was like a bad tackle you couldn’t look away from, a slow-motion collision that kept echoing long after it ended.
He’d seen Isabella in all kinds of moods. Sharp, sarcastic, tired after a long press conference, rolling her eyes when reporters asked stupid questions, even a little tipsy after that end-of-season dinner where she’d giggled at everything. But this version of her... this stripped-down, broken-voiced version, he didn’t know how to carry that. All he could do was be there, a silent presence letting her know she wasn’t alone.
A doctor walked past them, shoes squeaking on the floor, glancing at them for half a second before disappearing around the corner. A woman’s voice echoed faintly from another room, and then the corridor was quiet again.
"Did... did they approve the loan?" she asked suddenly, her voice quiet, hesitant, like even saying it aloud felt shameful, like she was confessing something dark.
Alex blinked, the question breaking him out of his thoughts.
Then he slapped his forehead, the sound loud in the quiet hallway.