Caleb didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke up, the attic was still dark. The only light came from the small window, where the faint glow of dawn had just begun to creep in.

His neck ached from sleeping in a hunched position, but he ignored it. His gaze immediately shifted to Elyra.

She was still asleep, her body curled up beneath the thin blanket. Her breathing was soft, but uneven—each exhale was slightly strained, as if even resting had become difficult.

His chest tightened.

Two weeks. Maybe less.

His mind was still struggling to accept it.

He had spent so many years hating her, pushing her away, never once stopping to see her for who she truly was. And now, when he finally realized how much time he had wasted, he was left with nothing but regrets.

Caleb swallowed hard, running a hand down his face. He needed to do something. Anything.

He couldn’t change the past. But maybe, just maybe, he could do something for her now.

Slowly, he stood up and made his way downstairs.

Their mother was already awake, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in hand. She barely glanced at him as he walked in. Their father was reading the newspaper, as usual, uninterested in anything else.

Caleb clenched his fists.

All these years, they had acted like Elyra was nothing more than a nuisance. A mistake. A burden they never wanted.

And they still had no idea what was happening to her.

A sharp bitterness burned in his throat. He had been like them once. Ignorant. Cruel. Uncaring.

But not anymore.

Without a word, he grabbed a plate and started filling it with food. Not for himself. For Elyra.

His mother frowned. "What do you think you’re doing?"

Caleb didn’t look up. "Getting breakfast."

"For who?"

The irritation in her voice made his skin crawl.

He met her gaze, his expression cold. "For Elyra."

The room fell silent.

His mother scoffed, setting her coffee down. "That girl can get her own food. She needs to learn to pull her weight in this house."

Caleb’s jaw tightened.

"She’s sick," he said, his voice dangerously low.

His mother rolled her eyes. "Sick? Please. She’s just weak. Always has been."

Caleb slammed the plate down. The sound echoed through the kitchen, making his father finally lower his newspaper.

His mother flinched, startled by his sudden outburst.

"She has cancer," Caleb spat, his hands trembling with rage. "She’s dying, and none of you even noticed."

The silence that followed was deafening.

His mother’s face twisted in disbelief. "Don’t be ridiculous."

Caleb let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Ridiculous? She has two weeks left, and you still don’t care." His voice cracked, but he didn’t stop. "All this time, you’ve treated her like she was nothing. Like she was a mistake. And now, when she’s slipping away right in front of us, you still refuse to see her."

His father finally spoke, his voice cold. "Even if that’s true, what does it change? She’s never contributed to this family. She’s only brought shame."

Something inside Caleb snapped.

His chair scraped against the floor as he stood up, his hands shaking with barely contained fury.

"She didn’t deserve this," he said, his voice raw. "She never did."

His parents didn’t respond.

Of course, they wouldn’t.

They never cared.

Caleb grabbed the plate and stormed back up to the attic.

When he walked in, Elyra was awake, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes. She turned her head slightly when she saw him, her lips parting in mild surprise.

"Are you… okay?" she asked softly.

Caleb swallowed the lump in his throat.

He wasn’t.

But she was the one who mattered right now.

He forced a small, strained smile. "Brought you breakfast."

Elyra blinked, looking down at the plate he set beside her. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for a piece of bread.

"You don’t have to do this," she murmured.

Caleb sat beside her, watching as she hesitated before taking a small bite.

"I know," he said. "But I want to."

She didn’t say anything. But the way her lips curved into the faintest smile told him enough.

Caleb sat with her in silence, watching as she slowly ate, savoring each bite as if she knew she wouldn’t get many more chances.

And it killed him.

Because he knew—no matter what he did now, it wouldn’t be enough.

It would never be enough. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To Be Continued...