Page 80 of Fighting Fate

She giggles as I walk away and join Kins, heading toward the familiar room #3. She preps to take my vitals; her approach more relaxed with just me around.

As she wraps the cuff around my arm, she comments, "You know, you really brightened Harper's day."

I can't help but smile. "Seems like I did."

Kins, with her stethoscope casually around her neck, nudges me. "You're in a good mood today, aren't you?"

Am I really handling this well? I've spent the whole week in dread, and now, here in the familiar routine, I'm still playing the part. It's almost easier to wear this mask of calm than to face the storm of fear and uncertainty inside.

Sitting there, lost in thought, Kinsley's routine tasks hum in the background, underscoring my inner turmoil. These moments, so regular yet filled with alternating currents of hope and dread, never become easier.

Kinsley looks up, her voice laced with compassion. "You're so strong, Miles. Always handling this with such grace."

A wry smile crosses my lips. "I guess it's just what I've learned, Kins," I murmur.

She nods, her eyes warm with understanding. "It's a true sign of strength, Miles."

That strength has been my anchor, the one constant through all this uncertainty. But it doesn't make the weight any less heavy.

Kinsley's voice pulls me back. "Dr. Reynolds will be in soon." I nod, settling into the chair, feeling her gaze on me. She reaches across, her hands enveloping mine in a comforting grip. Her words are gentle, almost motherly. "You've been here before, Miles. Look how far you've come."

I exhale, a tension I didn't know I was holding releases. "You think I can keep doing this?" I ask, more to myself.

Kinsley gives a reassuring smile. "You've fought it before, and you can definitely fight it now."

She leaves, and I'm alone with my racing thoughts. Fight it now? What the hell does that mean? My heart pounds, my breath quickens. How can I stay calm with words like that?

Pacing the room, I try to steady my thoughts.

It's all good. Stay strong, Miles.

But those words feel hollow. Maybe Kins meant something less dire, something manageable?

A knock at the door breaks my reverie. "Miles," a voice calls.

Dr. Reynolds steps in, smiling, but he fails to mask the concern underneath. It's a look I know too well, one that's always preceded by unwelcome news. A doctor's smile that never reaches his eyes is a smile heavy with unspoken truths.

Dr. Reynolds gestures to the chair. "Take a seat, Miles," he says, his voice a mix of steadiness and empathy.

I sit, fighting to keep the rising tide of anxiety at bay.

He starts, the weight of his words filling the room. "Miles, the results from your PET scan are in. I wish I had better news." He exhales, releasing tension and his tone softens. "The PET scan revealed some concerning areas, Miles. We need more tests, but it looks like activity in the same area as before."

That "area"—my brain, where I've battled before—suddenly feels like a battleground again.

The weight in the room intensifies, pressing down on me. I inhale deeply, trying to steady my voice. "What's the next step?"

Dr. Reynolds leans in, his gaze sincere. "We're not sure of the severity yet. We'll start with a biopsy. Then, we can plan your treatment. We're here for you, Miles." His reassurance feels hollow.

"Yeah, what's new?" I murmur, more to myself. A whirlwind of thoughts swirl inside. The path I thought I'd left behind now stretches out before me again. What about football, college, the MCAT? My dreams, once within grasp, slip away, the looming shoe finally dropping.

A string of curses slips out, fueled by frustration. Why now? My heart races, the room spins.

Everything is fine, I tell myself.

But deep down, I know it's not. Far fucking from it.

I just couldn't help myself, you know? I had this gut feeling Miles would be here. He thinks he's all mysterious, but honestly, after watching him for so long, he's pretty easy to read. And man, what a read he is...

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