The cold sterility of the operating room surrounded Elyra as she lay on the table, her body trembling, though not from fear. She had made her decision. There was no turning back.

Above her, masked faces hovered, murmuring final preparations. The bright surgical lights stung her eyes, but she kept them open, unwilling to let go just yet.

One of the doctors hesitated beside her. “Elyra… Are you sure?”

A weak smile touched her lips. “Take care of him,” she whispered.

Then, darkness.

Somewhere else—somewhere between life and death—Caleb dreamed.

He stood in an empty field, the sky stretching endlessly above him. A soft breeze whispered through his hair, carrying a scent he had long forgotten—the scent of home before everything fell apart.

And then, he saw her.

Elyra stood a few steps away, her white hospital gown billowing like ghostly mist. She looked… peaceful. Healthier than he had ever seen her. The sickly pallor was gone, replaced by a warmth he didn’t recognize.

“Elyra?” His voice cracked, confusion laced with something he didn’t understand yet.

She smiled—a real smile, not the hollow ones he barely noticed before. “You’re waking up soon,” she said softly.

His brows furrowed. “What? Where am I?”

She stepped closer, reaching out, but just before her fingers could brush against his, she pulled away. “I need you to do something for me.”

Caleb shook his head. “What are you talking about?

Elyra—”

“Live.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but it carried more weight than anything he had ever heard.

Caleb felt the world tremble beneath him. “I don’t understand—”

“Live for both of us,” she pleaded. “Promise me.”

His chest tightened, an unfamiliar panic rising in his throat. His heart—it felt different. Heavy. Wrong.

Then, suddenly, the sky shattered like broken glass, and he was yanked from the dream.

Caleb’s eyes flew open.

Pain. A dull, deep ache in his chest. The steady beeping of machines. The suffocating scent of antiseptic.

Hospital. Surgery.

Elyra.

His head snapped to the side, expecting to see her in the next bed over. But her space was empty.

A chill crept into his veins.

Footsteps. Murmurs outside his door. Then, his mother’s voice—a strangled sob.

Caleb’s breath hitched as the door slowly swung open. His father entered first, eyes red-rimmed, hollow. His mother followed, a hand pressed against her mouth as though holding in a scream. Behind them, the doctor stood, face solemn.

Caleb didn’t need to hear the words. He already knew.

Still, when the doctor finally spoke, the truth crashed into him like a death sentence.

“The transplant was a success,” he said. “But… Elyra didn’t make it.”

Caleb’s world shattered. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To Be Continued...