Elyra lay in the hospital bed, her frail fingers clutching the thin blanket that barely shielded her from the cold. The quiet hum of machines filled the sterile room, but all she could hear was the faint beeping from Caleb’s monitor. His condition was worsening. The doctors had said time was slipping away. If they didn’t find a compatible heart soon, he wouldn’t make it.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to sit up despite the searing pain in her chest. The world spun, her vision darkening at the edges, but she refused to stop. With trembling hands, she reached for the call button. Moments later, a doctor entered, his face shadowed with exhaustion.

“I want to be Caleb’s donor,” Elyra rasped, her voice weak but unwavering. “I know I’m a match. Let me do this.”

The doctor’s expression turned grim. “Elyra, you’re in no condition—”

“I don’t have much time left anyway,” she interrupted, gripping the sheets to keep herself steady. “Please. I’m dying, and I—I want this to mean something.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “We need parental consent. And even if they agreed, this goes against every medical ethic—”

“They won’t agree,” she whispered. Her parents had never cared about her well-being before—why would they start now? If anything, they would refuse simply out of spite.

The doctor gave her a long, unreadable look before sighing. “I’m sorry, Elyra.” And with that, he left.

Her fingers curled into fists. She couldn’t let Caleb die. Not when she had the power to save him.

That night, when the hallways fell silent and the nurses changed shifts, Elyra forced herself out of bed. Every step was agony, her body protesting with every movement, but she had made up her mind. She dragged herself toward Caleb’s room, biting her lip to keep from crying out as a fresh wave of dizziness struck her.

When she finally reached his bedside, she clung to the railing for support. Caleb’s face was eerily pale, his breathing shallow.

“Hey, big brother,” she murmured, forcing a small smile. “I know you hate me, and maybe… maybe I deserve that. But I never hated you.” Her fingers lightly traced the edge of his blanket. “I always looked up to you, even when you looked at me like I was a mistake.”

Her vision blurred, but she refused to cry. There wasn’t enough time for that.

She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You have to live, Caleb. You have to be the person I know you can be. Even if it’s without me.”

A quiet sob escaped her lips, but she quickly swallowed the rest. Then, pressing a soft kiss to his fingers, she turned and made her way toward the operating room.

The doctors were startled when she barged in, her breath ragged, her body barely holding itself together.

“You’re going to do the transplant,” she said firmly, gripping the edge of a table to keep herself upright.

“Elyra, you—”

“I’m going to die either way,” she cut them off, her voice raw. “At least let me do it on my own terms.”

They hesitated, glancing at one another.

“I don’t have much time left,” she whispered. “Please.”

A long silence followed. Then, one of the doctors exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples.

“…Prep the OR.”

Elyra let out a shaky breath, her fingers unclenching from the table. As they guided her onto the surgical bed, she stared up at the blinding white lights, her heartbeat steady despite the circumstances.

She had made peace with her fate.

And soon, she would finally be free. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To Be Continued...