Page 121 of A Win-Win Situation

"Call 112!" I urgently shout, and Leora springs into action, swiftly dialing the emergency number before following us to the ground with remarkable speed.

"He’s going to be okay," she whispers, her voice a soothing melody in the midst of the frantic symphony surrounding us. Yet, her eyes betray a shared fear, a reflection of the uncertainty that hangs in the air.

"It’s okay. I’m ready." My uncle’s voice is low and we bend down to hear him better, but he doesn’t speak again. His eyes flutter shut, and his breathing worsens, getting more labored. Every second feels like an eternity as we await assistance.

"Where’s the damn ambulance?" The pain in Liam’s voice reverberates in my own chest. As if on cue, the paramedics rush towards us, pushing us all to the side so they can get to work. Leora takes my hand in hers, tears streaming down her face. I can't seem to understand the severity of the situation; I’m numb. I'm scared, and the stabbing panic in my chest is increasing, but I can't allow it. Because he's going to get better. He must get better. He can't leave us.

He can't leave me.

"His lungs have accumulateda lot of fluid, a condition known as pleural effusion," Dr. Rousseau explains, her tone measured. "The cancer has invaded the pleura, causing inflammation and disrupting the normal fluid balance. This led to the excessive buildup of fluid in the pleural space surrounding the lungs. As a result, his respiratory function was compromised, and he collapsed."

Leora’s soft voice wavers as she asks, "Will he get better?"

The doctor takes a deep breath before continuing, her eyes conveying a mixture of empathy and sorrow. "I'm sorry," she says gently, "but his cancer has spread extensively. At this stage, the prognosis is not favorable, and we won't be able to cure it. Our focus now is on providing the best possible care to manage his symptoms and make him as comfortable as we can during this time."

My mind races with "what-ifs" and "if-onlys," tormenting me with the possibility that I might have altered the course of events. Why didn't he tell us? Why didn't we push for more answers? The waves of guilt crash over me, each one carrying the weight of missed opportunities.

Leora's hand on mine provides a small comfort, but the guilt gnaws at the edges of my consciousness. The doctor's words echo in my mind, and I can't escape the haunting thought that I might have let him down.

"Can we see him?" Liam asks.

"He’s sleeping at the moment, but you can go in," the doctor replies, her voice gentle.

The door creaks softly as Liam pushes it open, revealing the dimly lit room where our uncle lies motionless. The rhythmic beeping of machines is the only sound that breaks the heavy silence. I follow Liam, my steps cautious, as we enter the room. Liam approaches the bed, looking down at our uncle, who appears more fragile than ever beneath the pale hospital lights.

A soft sigh leaves Liam’s lips as he whispers, "HiAmmo," his voice barely audible. He turns to me, unshed tears glimmering in his eyes.

"What if he never wakes up, Lucas? What if—" He breaks. Tears stream down his eyes and I immediately wrap him in my arms, cradling his head to my shoulder. The same questions are on repeat in my head, but for Liam, I have to be strong. I can’t break too.

"Lucas, Liam," Uncle’s weak but genuine smile reaches us, as he speaks. "You boys, you’ve been a gift to me."

Tears brim in my own eyes, but I blink them away, "You’ll be alright," I soothe, my voice cracking with emotion as I sit beside him. Liam joins me, and together, we encircle him with our presence.

I watch, a knot forming in my stomach, as our uncle gathers his strength to speak. His eyes, though tired, convey so much love. "Promise me that you’ll take care of each other."

Liam and I exchange a glance. "We promise,Ammo," Liam chokes out. I nod in agreement, my own voice catching in my throat. He tries to smile in response, but a cough interrupts, leaving some blood stains on his lips. Liam's expression shifts from tentative hope to concern as he glances at me.

"Easy,Ammo," Liam says softly, his voice a comforting murmur. "Don't strain yourself."

His gaze locks onto mine, and he musters a frail but affectionate smile.

Suddenly, the machines start beeping, interrupting the delicate exchange. I squeeze Uncle's hand, desperately hoping for a sign that he's still with us.

Liam's eyes widen, panic flashing across his face as he looks at me, searching for reassurance. The room seems to close in on us, and the air grows thicker with the weight of uncertainty.

Liam releases his hand and rushes toward the door, yelling for assistance from the medical staff waiting outside.

I stand unwavering by Uncle's side, my heart thundering in my chest. "Not yet.Ma tetrekna, Ammo, bisharafak, ma tetrekna." I beg him not to leave us, to stay with us a little longer. I feel like the little boy who was pleading for his parents to stay, to not leave him alone. There’s desperation in my voice, a fear of losing the man who has been a pillar of strength and love in our lives.

The room falls into an unsettling hush as the medical team swarms around my uncle, desperately urging Liam and me to clear out. But their words are lost in the chaos. I can’t hear them; there's a humming in my ears that seems to intensify for every second that passes. My eyes are only glued on my uncle, watching as he struggles to stay awake.

Resisting the push to leave, a hand clamps onto my arm, yanking me away from the room.

The corridor offers no refuge. It's sterile, cold, and the antiseptic smell now cuts through me. Leora runs up to me immediately, her eyes scanning my face, concern etched on her features. Yet, her words dissolve into the turbulence in my mind.

FORTY-THREE

LUCAS

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