The air in the room felt heavier than ever.

Their father still knelt by Elyra’s bedside, his silent sobs the only sound breaking the suffocating quiet. Caleb refused to look at him. He couldn’t.

Forgiveness was something Elyra had given so easily, but Caleb couldn’t bring himself to do the same.

Not yet.

Not when his sister was lying there, barely breathing, slipping further away with each passing second.

Their mother, who had been sitting on the edge of the bed, finally found the strength to reach for their father. She placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder, and when he flinched but didn’t pull away, Caleb realized that his father was truly breaking.

It didn’t matter anymore.

Because no amount of regret or sorrow could save Elyra now.

Caleb turned back to his sister. Her eyes were still open, barely, her lashes fluttering against her pale cheeks.

She looked so fragile.

Too fragile.

His throat tightened as he forced a smile. "Hey… you should rest, Elyra."

Her lips curled slightly, just the ghost of a smile. "Not yet."

Caleb’s chest ached.

She always said that.

She always tried to hold on, to fight, even when her body begged her to stop.

He wished she didn’t have to fight anymore.

He wished none of this had ever happened.

Elyra turned her head toward him slowly, her breathing uneven. "Caleb… stay with me tonight."

His heart clenched.

"Of course," he whispered, tightening his grip on her hand. "I’ll be right here."

She sighed in relief, her fingers twitching slightly against his palm.

"I just… I don’t want to be alone," she murmured.

His vision blurred instantly.

"You’re not alone," he promised.

He wasn’t sure if she had heard him, but after a moment, she closed her eyes, her expression peaceful.

Their father finally stood up, wiping his face with shaking hands. His voice was hoarse when he spoke.

"I’ll let you two have some time," he said quietly.

Caleb didn’t respond.

His father hesitated for a moment before turning away, his steps slow and heavy as he walked out of the room. Their mother followed after him, though she paused at the doorway, her gaze lingering on Elyra with unmistakable sorrow.

And then they were alone.

Caleb shifted closer, adjusting the thin blanket over Elyra’s frail frame.

She stirred slightly, then slowly opened her eyes again.

"Caleb," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something important, but she hesitated.

Finally, she sighed. "What do you think life would have been like… if things were different?"

The question nearly shattered him.

Different.

If only things had been different.

Caleb exhaled shakily, his grip on her hand tightening. "What do you mean?"

Elyra’s gaze drifted toward the ceiling. "If I had been stronger. If I had spoken up. If Mom and Dad had loved me the way they were supposed to."

Caleb swallowed the lump in his throat. "It wasn’t your fault, Elyra."

"I know," she whispered. "But still… I wonder."

She shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable, and he immediately reached out to support her.

A small smile played on her lips. "I wonder what it would have been like… to grow up with love."

Caleb squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, forcing himself to stay composed.

"You deserved that," he said softly. "You deserved everything, Elyra."

She was quiet for a long time.

Then, she whispered, "I wish I had more time."

His heart nearly stopped.

"Elyra—"

She turned to look at him, her eyes glistening.

"I wish I had more time with you," she murmured. "I wish we had more time to do stupid things together. To laugh. To… live."

Caleb clenched his jaw, his fingers trembling as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face.

"Then let’s pretend," he said suddenly.

Elyra blinked at him. "Pretend?"

He forced a grin, though his voice shook. "Let’s pretend we have all the time in the world. Just for tonight."

She smiled softly, her eyes warm despite her exhaustion. "Okay."

They lay there in the dimly lit room, talking in whispers, pretending—just for a little while—that things were different.

That Elyra wasn’t dying.

That their family hadn’t fallen apart.

That their childhood had been filled with happiness instead of pain.

Caleb told her stories—ridiculous ones, stories where they had grown up in a normal home, with normal parents, where they had spent their summers by the beach and their winters by the fireplace.

Elyra laughed, though it was weak and breathy.

"That would have been nice," she murmured.

He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Yeah."

She sighed, her eyelids fluttering shut.

"Caleb?"

"Yeah?"

Her grip on his hand weakened slightly.

"Thank you… for everything."

His chest ached so badly he thought it might crush him.

"Elyra—"

But she had already drifted into sleep.

Caleb stared at her fragile form, his heart pounding.

He knew.

He knew this was one of the last nights he would ever have with her.

And no matter how much he begged the universe, no matter how much he prayed, there was nothing he could do to stop what was coming.

All he could do was stay.

So he lay beside her, holding her hand, whispering stories of a life they would never have.

A life that should have been theirs.

A life that was stolen far too soon.

And as the night stretched on, Caleb silently wished-- more that anything-- that they had been given just a little more time. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To Be Continued...