Kiara
I enter the hospital room to discover Trey standing silently by Maggie's side, his gaze fixed upon her. He still hasn't slept at all, evident from the stubble shadowing his jawline. It's a rare sight; Trey typically shaves diligently each morning. Despite the dark circles under his eyes and his tousled hair, the stubble oddly suits him.
Three days have passed since the accident. Maggie remains motionless in the hospital bed, surrounded by an array of monitors and machines. Her chest rises and falls with each breath, synchronized with the steady beeping of the monitor tracking her heartbeat. Multiple scratches mar her face, and stitches line the right side of her forehead.

She appears beautiful and serene, as though she's peacefully asleep and could awaken at any given moment. There's still hope she might. The doctor explained she had to undergo brain surgery for an intracranial hemorrhage. But here's the good news: things are looking up. They've successfully stopped the bleeding in her brain, and the swelling is beginning to subside.
As I watch Maggie lying in the hospital bed, memories flood my mind. She has to pull through, she just has to. I love her so much; Maggie has been like a second mother to me. I've confided in her things I would never dare share with my own mother. She's been incredibly supportive and has always treated me like family, even when her daughter wanted nothing to do with me. Her love and kindness have been a guiding light in my life, and I can't bear the thought of losing her.
"Hey, I brought you a chicken sandwich from the cafeteria," I offer gently, setting it down on the nearby table. "Alex called to check on you. He says the restaurant is doing well, and to take off any time you need."
He doesn't respond. It's hard to tell how long he's been standing here; he adamantly refuses to leave her side. I do my best to offer support, rearranging my schedule as much as possible. I even canceled most of the remaining stops on my book tour, except for the one scheduled at the end of the week at a Barnes & Noble in Virginia Beach.
I walk over to him, gently placing a hand on his arm. His gaze briefly flickers to me, but he remains silent. In his eyes, I see a tumult of emotions, and my heart aches at the sight. "Hey, go home and get some sleep. I'll stay with her," I offer softly, hoping to ease some of his burden.
"No, I have to stay here," he protests, his voice devoid of emotion. "What if she wakes up and needs me?"

I summon a faint smile, but it feels hollow as it struggles to reach my eyes. "I promise I'll call you if anything changes. And I'll stay with her until you return."
"Kiara," he starts, his voice cracking with remorse as he drops his gaze to the floor. "There's only a twenty to forty percent chance she'll wake up. Those odds aren't comforting at all. How can I go home or even think about sleeping, knowing she might not make it? Our last real conversation was during Christmas Eve dinner, and I let out all my frustrations, making her feel like a terrible mother."
I gently place a finger underneath his chin, tilting it upward to meet my gaze. "Don't you dare do that," I say in a firm tone. "You've spoken to her since then. She knows you needed to get that off your chest, and she also knows you love her despite what happened."
I can see the weight of his thoughts etched on his face, the burden of self-blame heavy in his eyes. It's clear he's spent too much time lost in his own mind, consumed by guilt. I refuse to let him drown in these emotions; he's already on the brink of breaking down. The strain of holding in his emotions for the past three days, trying to be strong for his siblings, is evident. But there's only so much someone can endure before they need support for themselves. That's what I'm here for.

Exhaling deeply, I step forward. "If you're not going to go home, at least come here and rest your head on my lap for a while," I suggest gently, reaching for his hand and guiding him to the chairs arranged along the side of the room.
I settle into the chair, and he silently complies, resting his head in my lap while I tenderly stroke his hair. If I can coax him into sleep, even for a little while, It will be a small victory. Eventually, we'll work up to getting him to shower and change his clothes.
"How are you feeling?" he murmurs, "are you finally getting over the bug?"
Not for another eight months.
"Let's focus on you right now. If you don't eat this sandwich, it's going to get cold," I tease gently, hoping to lighten the heavy atmosphere.
"The thought of food makes me sick," he replies, his voice heavy with exhaustion.
"Yeah, me too," I admit quietly. "Oh well, maybe you can just eat it later then."
Ten minutes pass, and he succumbs to sleep. I continue to stroke his hair, overwhelmed by a surge of love. I love this damn man so much. I'd do anything for him, even if it means bearing his pain for him.
There's a soft knock on the door, and I glance up to see Candice entering the room. She settles down across from us, her expression etched with concern. "How's he doing?" she inquires.
She has spoken to me a few times in the past couple of days, mostly about Trey or her mom. Surprisingly, it's made me realize that I've missed her, despite her being a total pain in the neck the last few months. But I guess this situation is bringing us closer together again. She's leaning on both me and Trey for support, and in a strange way, it feels good to have her back in my life.
"Not well, but I've managed to get him to sleep," I reply with a sigh. "Now I just need to figure out how I'm going to drag him home." I crinkle my nose. "He's starting to get that sweaty guy smell."
"He really needs to be careful before he ends up in here next," Candice remarks with a frown. "I'm really worried about him."
I offer her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of him."
The alarm on my phone interrupts us, prompting me to reach into my pocket for the Zofran. With a grimace, I pop one into my mouth. It tastes fucking disgusting, but anything is better than the lingering taste of bile.
She studies me, concern evident in her narrowed eyes. "You need to take care of yourself. I'm guessing you haven't told him."
I raise an eyebrow in response.
"That you're pregnant," she whispers confidently. "Remember that girl from our study hall senior year? She took those pills too."
Shit.
There's no point in hiding it; she knows me too well. "Please, don't tell him," I plead in a hushed tone.
"Are you going to get rid of it before he finds out?" she asks, her skepticism evident.
I grimace, feeling a pang of hurt at the assumption. I couldn't imagine doing something like that to Trey. If we were to consider that option, it would be a decision we make together. "What? No, of course not," I reply firmly. "I just don't want him stressing about it with everything else going on. He doesn't need more on his plate right now."
I'll have to wait for the right moment to reveal to him that I'm not sick; rather, my body is just treating our little bean like a parasite. It's a struggle I'll have to endure, knowing I may have to suffer a bit more than the average pregnant woman, but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make for us.
Candice's features relax slightly. "I can't believe I'm going to have a niece or nephew. I've always been excited about being an aunt...I just didn't know it would be you having a baby with my brother."
"Me neither," I admit, a mix of emotions swirling within me. "But I told you before, I never intended for this to happen."
Everything that has unfolded over the past year was a blend of fate and Trey's unwavering pursuit. I'm grateful he never gave up on the idea of us; who knows how different my life would be right now without him.
And who knows where he would've ended up. He was alone and lost, drifting aimlessly, engaging in casual encounters with women with no emotional attachments, all out of fear of ending up in a relationship like Maggie and Williams'.
But now, we've shown each other what real love is. The trials and tribulations we've faced have only brought us closer together. And now, as we embark on this journey of life together, we're going to start a family.
"I know, I'm sorry for the things I said when everything came out. I was just hurt, and going through my own shit," Candice responds, her voice tinged with remorse. "I see how much you love him and he loves you. I hope one day someone feels that way about me."
I offer her a warm smile. "You will. You just need to work on not taking your emotions out on people who care about you, and instead lean on us," I say reassuringly.
"I know," she replies with determination. "I booked an appointment for a therapist tomorrow, and I'm going to start going to AA. After the accident, seeing Mom like this... I never want to touch a drop of alcohol again."
I reach out and she places her hand in mine, and I gently squeeze it. "I'm proud of you."
Suddenly, the monitor goes off, and my heartbeat skyrockets. I glance at Maggie, who still looks like she's sleeping. With a sudden jolt, Candice leaps from her chair, her hand slamming down on the call button. "Help! Something's wrong with my mom! Help, please!" she screams hysterically, her voice filled with panic.
"Trey, wake up!" I say urgently, shaking him until his head shoots up.
His eyebrows furrow in confusion, but as realization dawns on him, his expression shifts to one of alarm. He rushes over to Maggie's bedside, his hands trembling as he grabs hers. "Mom, wake up! Please, don't leave us!" he pleads desperately, his voice choked with emotion.
A team of nurses and doctors rush into the room, their urgency palpable. "I need you all to leave. Now," Doctor Rodriguez orders firmly.
"I'm not fucking leaving her. She's dying!" Trey roars, his voice raw with anguish, fighting against the nurses' hold with desperation.
Ignoring the breaking of my own heart, I grab Trey's arm firmly, my fingers trembling. I force him to meet my gaze, tears welling in my eyes. "Trey, we need to get out of their way or they can't help her. Come with me, please," I whisper, my voice cracking with emotion.
Candice grips his other arm tightly, her eyes pleading with him. "C'mon Trey, we need to go. Let them do their job."
Trey takes a shaky breath, his whole body trembling with emotion. "Okay," he says, his tone barely above a whisper.
Reluctantly, we allow ourselves to be guided out of the room by the medical staff. The sound of hurried footsteps and urgent voices fills the air as more nurses rush into Maggie's room. With a heavy heart, the door is closed behind us, leaving us to wait anxiously in the corridor, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on us like a suffocating cloud.