Kelly
I grip Aiden’s hand tighter as we walk down the hallway, past closed doors and nurses who barely glance at us. His fingers clutch mine, his other hand curled into a fist at his side.
I wonder if he’s nervous. If he regrets coming. Because I do.
I swallow hard as we stop outside Anderson’s room. The door is slightly ajar, but I don’t move. Aiden looks up at me, uncertain. His dark eyes are searching, waiting for me to give him permission to go inside.
I force myself to nod. “Are you ready?”
He hesitates, then nods back. I push the door open. And we stepped. Anderson looks… different.
His skin is pale, almost gray under the harsh hospital lights. The strong, confident posture he once carried is gone, replaced by sunken shoulders and frail limbs tangled in hospital sheets
