Chapter 3: Gone Before Goodbye
Hospitals have a way of making everything feel colder than it is.
The lights were too bright. The air was too sharp. The silence was too loud. Alex sat in the emergency waiting room with his fists clenched and head bowed low, his heart was drummed with every heartbeat, too loud for the quiet room.
His shirt was stained with sweat. Blood from his father's nose dried on his sleeves. The nurses had taken his father in, wheeled him down cold white corridors, spoken in clinical tones that made Alex want to scream.
They asked questions: When did he collapse? What did he eat? Any known conditions? Medications? Medical history?
Alex had no answers. His mind was still stuck on that moment, walking into the house, the smile on his face, the plans in his head... and then everything freezing.
The heavy footsteps broke his spiral.
That morning, everything had felt... possible.
He had left the house rehearsing what he'd say. "Dad, I got it. I actually got it."
He'd imagined his father's face lighting up, that rare, full smile that made him look ten years younger.
But life didn't follow scripts. The door he'd opened that afternoon led not to celebration, but to collapse.
"Alex!"