But amidst the grief, I held onto the promises I made, knowing that her spirit would live on.
But what hurt more and lingered even longer was Azzaria.
How could I pass on such a detrimental message to her, especially after knowing how it felt to hear that your parents died?
The world seemed to blur around me as I stood there, gripping Leann’s lifeless hand. I was aware of Nurse Jenkins stepping quietly into the room, her presence a gentle reminder of the reality I didn’t want to face.
“She’s gone,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else. The words hung heavy in the air, and I felt a crushing weight on my chest.
Nurse Jenkins placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she replied, her voice filled with genuine sorrow. I nodded numbly, unable to find the strength to respond. “Should we have Dr. McIntyre inform her family?”
I nodded again, “Yes. I’ll handle the rest.”
I gently laid Leann’s hand back on the bed, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. She looked peaceful now, free from the pain that had consumed her in her final moments. But the peace I saw in her brings no comfort, only a deep, gnawing ache.
I left her room in a daze, the walls of the hospital closing in on me.
Each step felt heavy as if I was wading through thick mud.
Memories flood my mind: her bright smile when I walked into her room, the way she’d joke about the hospital food, the moments we had during her treatment sessions, the way she’d talk about Azzaria with such love and pride. And now, she was gone, leaving behind an emptiness that seemed impossible to fill.
I grabbed my phone, my hand shaking. “Dillon, get to thehospital now.”
“I’m in a meeting.”
“Dillon,” I exhaled sharply, “They’re about to call Azzaria. Her mother is dead. Leave the fucking meeting,now.”
“No, no, no,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’ll be there soon.”
My mind flashed to the day I lost my parents, a pain I hadn’t felt so deeply in a long time. But I pushed it aside, remembering the duty I had to fulfill. I headed for the autopsy center to finalize the transport of her body.
“Sir,” Nurse Jenkins called as I neared the room. “Someone’s inside.”
“Who?” I asked, dread settling in.
“Her daughter.”
My heart dropped. I exhaled, steeling myself, and entered. Azzaria was there, looking completely lost, out of place, and utterly broken.
“Ronan,” she whispered, running to me.
“Zar,” I whispered, the words thick in my throat. Before I could say anything more, she collapsed into my arms, her sobs tearing through me. I held her, frustrated and helpless that Dillon wasn’t here yet. I knew she needed him, not me. I was her best friend, but he was the one who could offer her even a shred of hope.
We stayed like that for what felt like forever before the autopsy team arrived. Azzaria pulled away, and I let her go, my heart shattering for her.
“Azzaria, we need to leave now. They have to transfer her to the morgue.”
Her swollen, tear-streaked face met mine, and my own eyes burned with unshed tears.
“I’ll be back. Dillon is on his way,” I promised.
She nodded, stepping out to the waiting area. I made surethe paperwork was in order and expedited her autopsy before returning, keeping my word to sit beside her.
I saw her frustration, felt it in my own chest. Sighing heavily, I said, “Azzaria, we need to talk, but not here.”
She followed me into an empty lab.
“Your mom’s been sick for months,” I began, “When she first came here, I didn’t know she was your mother. It wasn’t until after I connected the dots.”
