Page 39 of Fallen Empire
When the bottle dropped, I grabbed it without thinking and took the seat a few spots away from him. Close enough to not be rude. Far enough to not invite anything else.
I cracked the cap and took a long pull. Cool, sharp, and exactly what I needed.
“My best friend is here,” I said suddenly.
His eyes lifted. There was no smirk. No judgment. Just a simple, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
We were on the critical care floor. He didn’t ask what happened. Didn’t need to. Everyone here was on the edge of something.
“They’re extubating her right now,” I added, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
I didn’t know why I said it. Maybe because saying it aloud made it feel more real. More possible. Like speaking it into the air meant hope could finally stick to something solid.
He nodded, his eyes steady on mine now.
“Hey,” he said gently, “that’s good news, yeah?”
I nodded. “Yeah. It is. We’re hopeful she can go home soon.”
“It sounds like she’s a fighter. Good to hear.”
I took another drink, the fizz biting at my tongue as I stared at the wall across from us. Something in my chest loosened. Just a fraction. Just enough to keep breathing.
“And the person you’re here for?” I asked, glancing back at him.
His jaw tightened. He didn’t look at me when he answered.
“Even if she makes it through this time... it won’t be long before she’s gone.”
The words landed like a thud between us.
No sugarcoating. No hesitation. Just raw truth wrapped in something darker.
I swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
He finally looked at me then, a small, almost sad smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“Me too.”
His eyes didn’t move from mine. Not right away.
It wasn’t flirty. It wasn’t aggressive, but it lingered a second too long.
A beat past appropriate.
Like he was studying me. Memorizing. Clocking my reactions with quiet precision.
I glanced away, suddenly unsure of where to look.
“I hope she’s comfortable,” I offered, trying to fill the silence with something softer. Something human.
His expression didn’t change. “She is. She’s always been stubborn. Even now.”
A small chuckle left his lips. Empty of humor, but not of weight.
I forced a small smile, polite but guarded.
He turned toward me slightly, elbows resting on his knees, fingers steepled together.
