Rain tapped lightly against the hospital window as Kieran slid the tablet off his lap, letting it rest on the tray beside his bed. He hadn't even attempted to read it today. It wasn't the kind of distraction he needed. Instead, his eyes drifted to the gray clouds outside, swirling into shapes that reminded him of old summer afternoons. The kind spent sprawled out on the grass, finding dinosaurs and dragons in the sky.
A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He knew who it was before she even stepped inside. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, brief but unshakable.
"Did I miss the circus?" Amara teased as she slipped into the room. Her sneakers squeaked softly on the linoleum floor, sending an oddly comforting sound through the sterile quiet. She held a paper bag and a thermos in one hand, a folded deck of cards in the other.
"It's over for the day," he replied, voice warm despite its raspiness. "You'll have to settle for the after-party."
"Well then," she said, raising an eyebrow and setting her things down on the small table near the window, "lucky for you, I brought the entertainment." She flashed him the deck. "Same rules as last time?"
"Same rules. I win, you're buying me pizza when I'm out of here."
"And if I win?" She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Then you pick the toppings," he retorted with a smirk. He cleared his throat, the smile faltering as a dull ache curled in his ribs.
Amara's expression softened instantly. Wordlessly, she moved closer, dragging the visitor chair next to his bed. She didn't comment, didn't ask if he was okay. She knew better than that. Instead, she busied herself shuffling the cards, each motion practiced and light.
"You talk to your family about letting yourself rest?" she asked, the words slipping out casually, like she hadn't been turning the thought over in her head most of the day.
Kieran groaned and threw his head back against the pillow. "Not you too. Isn't one lecture per visit enough?"
"I'm just saying," Amara pressed, though there was no heat in her tone. "You don't always have to act so tough. They'd get it."
"And now you're doing the mom voice," he shot back. "What's next, you start sneaking cheese ravioli in for me?"
Amara laughed softly, her eyes crinkling at the edges. "Your mom's got that cornered. I'm sticking to desserts. Speaking of…" She leaned over to the bag on the table. "I brought cookies. Better late than never."
Kieran accepted the cookie she handed him, holding it for a moment before taking a bite. The chocolate melted instantly on his tongue, rich and sweet.
"You're saving me from the hospital pudding. For that, you're my hero," he said between bites.
"High praise," Amara said, grinning. "I guess I'll have to keep bribing you if that's what it takes."
Silence lapsed between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Amara leaned back in her chair, tilting it on its back legs, while Kieran finished his cookie in slow, deliberate bites. The sound of rain continued tapping against the window.
Finally, she broke the silence. "You were talking about me today."
"Was not," Kieran shot back immediately.
"You were," she insisted, her grin widening. "Your mom told me. Said you kept looking at that chair like you were expecting me to show up earlier."
Kieran rolled his eyes, but he didn't deny it. "Maybe I was just hoping someone would turn up who doesn't steal my juice boxes or make me eat extra pudding cups."
"Or maybe," Amara said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, "you're secretly my biggest fan."
He didn't answer this time, his smile wry. Instead of teasing back, he reached for the deck of cards sitting on the edge of the bedside table. He shuffled them slowly, the motion grounding, his fingers brushing over the worn edges.
"Thanks for coming by," he said after a moment.
Amara's brows knit slightly. "I always come by."
"Yeah," he agreed softly, and this time his voice wasn't tinged with any sarcasm or snark. "You do."
She didn't respond, at least not out loud. Instead, she plucked the cards from his hands and began dealing them out, her movements steady and sure.
The minutes passed softly, laughter spilling easily as they played round after round. It felt effortless, like time folding in on itself until neither of them remembered which one of them had started keeping score in the first place.
When the night grew late and the rain outside began to slow, Amara tucked the cards back into their box. She glanced at Kieran, as though debating whether to say something more, but instead, she simply smiled.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she said, stepping toward the door with her bag over her shoulder. Her words carried more certainty than anything else could have in that moment.
Kieran nodded. "Tomorrow," he echoed, his voice a thread of hope.
And then she was gone, her silhouette disappearing into the hallway. He listened to the faint sound of her sneakers fading, the quiet settling in once more.
For a few moments, Kieran stayed still. His eyes drifted again to the tablet on his tray. He reached for it slowly. It didn't open to his book this time but to a half-written note. His fingers hovered over the screen, scrolling through the words he'd typed weeks ago. It wasn't much. Just a few scattered thoughts about what he wanted them to remember about him. Nothing sentimental, really. Just memories of laughter and love.
He set the tablet down again, exhaling deeply. The ache in his chest felt distant now, like it wasn't even his. He looked toward the window, the rain now just a faint drizzle against the glass.
A soft, peaceful stillness began to settle over him. His eyes closed, his breaths slowing to a steady rhythm, and the faintest smile rested on his lips as he thought of his family, the circus, and Amara's promise of "tomorrow."
And then, without fanfare, Kieran's breaths paused. The beeping of the machines stretched into a single, unwavering tone. The quiet enveloped the room fully now, but it wasn't heavy. It was gentle, serene.
Outside, the rain stopped, leaving the world washed clean. And in that room, Kieran found his peace. A love so deep it stretched beyond words and moments, carrying him gently into the stars.