Page 63 of Shadows of Recovery

He leaned in closer, his face inches from hers. “I know, but you’re strong, and I’m right here.”

“Sophie, I’m Dr. Sam Harris. I’m like Tristan, one of the doctors who pokes and prods my patients. I promise I won’t do anything without your permission.” He looked at the monitor. “Honey, you’re in sinus tachycardia. Are you feeling any chest pain?”

Sophie shook. “This room, it’s scary.”

Tristan took her face between his palms. “Sweetheart, no one will hurt you in this room. Breathe with me.” He guided her through a set of breaths. Her heartrate only slowed a bit. Not enough to satisfy the two clinicians.

Dr. Boyle placed a gentle hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “Tristan, why don’t you sit with Sophie while we run some initial tests? It’ll help her feel more at ease.”

Tristan nodded, grateful for the suggestion. He pulled up a chair beside Sophie’s bed and took her hand once more. “I’m right here,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sam Harris and the head nurse of the ward where Sophie would be assigned, Matt, and a nursing assistant began their examination, speaking in low, soothing tones as they worked. Sophie winced slightly as they attached various monitors and checked her vitals.

“Just a little longer, Sophie,” Matt assured her. “We’re almost done. Tell me about your family.”

Matt had hit a positive mark. “There are five girls and my mom.”

“Oh wow, six girls. That must be a tough group,” he said.

Sophie smiled brightly. “Nobody messes with an Everhart and gets away with it.” As quickly as the words came out, her face fell.

Tristan squeezed her hand. “Trust me, beautiful.”

Sophie nodded, her grip on Tristan’s hand tightening. “I trust you,” she whispered, her eyes searching his face for reassurance.

Dr. Boyle stepped closer, her voice gentle and calming. “You’re doing great, Sophie. Just keep focusing on Tristan. He’s right here with you.”

Tristan leaned in, his forehead resting against Sophie’s. “You’re so brave. I’m so proud of you.”

Sophie nodded and managed a small smile.

Dr. Harris finished his examination and looked at her with a reassuring grin. “You did great, Sophie. Now, we’re going to get you settled into your room and start planning your treatment.”

Tristan stood up, still holding Sophie’s hand. “Thank you, everyone.”

Dr. Boyle nodded. “We’re here for both of you. Whatever you need, just let us know.”

* * *

As the teamwheeled Sophie to her new room, Tristan walked beside her, never letting go of her hand. Once she was settled, he sat down again, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Tristan,” Sophie cocked her head, “I’m so scared. What if… what if it doesn’t work?”

He took a deep breath, his own fears bubbling to the surface. But he pushed them aside, focusing on the woman he loved. “We can’t think like that. We have to believe in this. Believe in the doctors and believe in us. You’re going to get through this.”

Sophie nodded, her eyes closing as tears slipped down her cheeks. “Together,” she whispered, her grip on his hand never wavering.

He kept his promise, staying close as the staff welcomed them and settled Sophie into her new room. They treated Tristan as if he were part of her family, not their boss.

Her new room was serene and conducive to healing. He had taken great care to make the room as comforting as possible. On one wall, a collage of photos adorned the space, snapshots of happier times, all chosen to trigger memories. Her laughter at the beach, her proud smile at her graduation, a few tender moments with Tristan. The wooden frames added a touch of warmth and familiarity to the room.

The bed was neatly made with crisp white linens topped by a cozy plaid comforter in shades of violet, blue and green that would remind Sophie of the ocean. On the bedside table, a vase of fresh flowers—lilies and daisies—added a pop of color and a hint of a spring scent. A small framed picture of Sophie’s family was placed there too, their smiling faces a constant reminder of their love and support waiting for her outside these walls.

As Sophie’s eyes adjusted to the room’s gentleness, she noticed a few more personal touches. Her favorite blanket, a soft, plush throw in a pastel pink, was folded neatly at the foot of the bed. On the dresser, a small collection of her books and a few favorite trinkets—her seashell collection, a small hand-painted figurine of a cat, and a tiny worn-out journal—were arranged with care, as if waiting for her to return to them.

“I thought these little things might make you feel more at home,” Tristan said softly, his voice breaking the silence.

Sophie’s eyes, wide with a blend of confusion and wonder, moved from one familiar object to another. Her lips trembled as she took in the room’s comforting details, the love and thoughtfulness poured into every corner. “It’s... it’s beautiful,” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat.

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