Page 79 of Fighting Fate

Every day is a new tangle in this mess. Milli is everywhere—in class, all over campus, and even at our place, chatting with Luke. The moment I had heard her voice, it was like a jolt. I wanted to bolt out of my room, see her, talk to her. But no, I just lied there, glued to the bed. She had knocked softly, like she was tiptoeing around my mood. I didn't make a sound. She didn't push it. Through the crack under the door, her shadow had lingered; a silent question I'm still not ready to answer. Luke's voice had carried through the walls, tinged with concern. "He's been acting off all week. Doesn't seem like he's well." His words, truer than he knew.

My body is a battleground—stomach churning, head pounding, vision blurring. Is this a long-standing storm I have ignored, or did Kinsley's message cast a glaring spotlight on my reality? Either way, this past week, I craved nothing more than a respite from the storm that is my life.

Plus, that other thing with Milli, it's gnawing at me. We're treading new ground here, in a place we've never ventured before. And Milli seems to just glide through it all. Her smile, which once was like a beacon of light in my world, now only casts shadows of doubt, leaving me wondering if my touch ever really meant anything to her.

My train of thought derails as Harper tugs at my arm, pulling me toward a couple of chairs nestled in the cancer ward. These chairs are like tiny havens in the vast, sterile expanse of the hospital. There's a gentle hum of soothing music and sunlight pours through large windows, softening the harsh clinical edges. Potted plants stand guard, trying their best to infuse some life into the place.

I sink into a chair, propping my chin on my hand, and meet Harper's eager gaze.

"Hey, Miles, did you know something wild about space?" She beams at me.

A smile breaks through my worries. Harper, with only our second meeting, already feels like a balm to my frazzled nerves. She turns a dreaded hospital visit into something almost...hopeful. Just being here, making Harper's day a little brighter, gives me a sense of purpose beyond my own tangled thoughts.

Harper fidgets, her fingers playing a nervous dance against her thumb. Then, she locks eyes with me, a torrent of words spilling out. "Kinsley let me explore the hospital library. It was like an adventure!" Her laughter is light, infectious. "Have you been there?"

"Oh, definitely." I grin back. That library was where my dream of being a doctor, a pediatrician, took root. It's where my world expanded beyond the confines of my own health battles.

As she talks about space, her eyes light up with the same kind of wonder that always filled me when diving into medical books or racing down these halls with Luke in my wheelchair.

"Space is completely silent, you know. All those sound effects in movies are made up. There's no air in space to carry sound."

I look at her, genuinely impressed. "So, space is all quiet, huh? No hospital, no needles, just...peace?"

She nods eagerly. "Yeah, we could just float up there, away from all this, and be—Free. Just living a normal life," she adds, her voice a mix of longing and hope, perfectly echoing my own unspoken wish.

I nod, my smile genuine. "Exactly."

Harper shifts in her chair, her youthful energy palpable. "Imagine, Miles, just escaping all this, relaxing without a care about what's?—"

"Coming next?" I jump in, my voice tinged with understanding. "To relish the now, without fretting over the future?"

That sentiment hits close to home. I've heard it all before—"Focus on what's ahead, Miles," or "Let's see what the doctor says later, honey." But as a kid, and even now, that future-focused mindset feels like a weight. I often find myself wondering when the other shoe will drop. Here I am, a college senior, excelling in football, acing academics, aiming for med school—yet the nagging thought of impending doom lurks in the shadows.

Keep it together. Everything is okay.

Harper's grin is a ray of light. "Yeah, wouldn't that be something?"

I tap her nose playfully. "The absolute best."

Then, the moment breaks. "Miles, Doctor Reynolds will see you now."

I stand, giving Harper's shoulder a comforting squeeze. She clasps my hand, her small voice filled with sincerity. "Good luck, Miles."

She whips out her Polaroid. "Quick, before you go."

I oblige with a smile. "Of course, Harp."

Her eyes brighten at the nickname, a simple joy that lifts my spirits. Maybe, just maybe, it's the best part of my day.

We snap the photo, and as I turn to leave, I stop. "Hey, Harp."

She looks up, admiration in her gaze. It's a refreshing change from the typical adulation I get for football.

"Show me that dragon later, okay?"

Her enthusiastic nod makes her seem even more endearing.

I point at her, winking. "I'll be waiting for it."

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