'Wait, how many chapters are left? I squinted at the bottom of the screen. 'Fifty-seven?! You've got to be kidding me.'
The "Preparation Arc" was finally moving into the finale; the author had to be high on something to write this much setup.
My eyes are burned, but still, I couldn't stop.
"Lucifer, stop scrolling and go to sleep." My mother appeared at my side, her shadow falling across the bedsheets and floor. She was the inevitable boss fight at the end of every binge-reading session.
I couldn't skip; this author loved burying Chekhov's guns in the weirdest places. If I missed a line now, the finale wouldn't make sense later.
I tried to speed-read, my eyes darting like I was looking for a bomb trigger. One detail, just one tiny hint and I'd be satisfied. I just need ten more min—
"Hand it over." She didn't even wait for me to agree; she just plucked it out of the air like a forbidden snack.
"But Mom! The climax is right there!"
"I said, that's enough."
"Mom, wait! I'm right at the—" I reached out, but the protest died in my throat. I was too tired to actually fight back.
"See? You're exhausted," she said, shaking her head with a tired sigh, "I told you. You need to rest. Once the surgery is over, you'll have all the time in the world to finish that novel. For now, sleep is the only thing on the menu."
She sounded stern, but I could see the shadow of worry in her eyes. It made sense. In six hours, my 'Heart Surgery' was scheduled to begin.
'Six hours huh?' It's been a really long time. This heart surgery that had been looming over us for months.
I looked at my tired mother's eyes, behind the fake smile and the makeup she'd used to mask the dark circles. There's undeniably exhaustion, she hadn't gotten a proper rest too.
Silence of the room finally settling in.
"Okay," I said softly, settling back. I wondered at the irony of resting for an appointment where I'd be unconscious, but the gravity of the day kept me quiet. 'Seriously though, what's the logic? I'm about to be knocked out for hours anyway. Why do I need a pre-surgery nap?' I kept the thought to myself, though. I knew how much this mattered.
To be honest, I'd have given up a long time ago. The last surgery nearly took everything I had left; the only reason I was still here was because of them.
My parents were the ones who kept pushing when I couldn't. If it weren't for my parents stubbornly holding onto me, I'd have let go.
They'd even managed to pull in some high-profile specialist for this.
This was the final shot. If this worked, the "normal" life I'd forgotten might actually be waiting for me on the other side.
The truth was, I was terrified.
SniffSniff
I heard it then, the faint sniff-sniff of Mom trying to hold back tears.
I didn't open my eyes. If I looked at her now, I'd lose it, and I think we both needed the lie of me being "peacefully asleep."
I'll wait for the surgery to succeed and meet her with a happy smile with few tears. She is like that, always been.
The door creaked. A second voice joined the room in a hushed tone.
"Is he asleep?"
"Yeah." It was Dad. I wanted to greet him, but sleep was a greedy thing, dragging me down into the depths.
"What did she... tell you?" Mom whispered.
"There's a possibility... of..."
And then, the world went quiet.
…
After hearing his words, the composure she'd spent months building simply vanished, and she collapsed against him, sobbing into his chest.
He held her, but didn't say a word; he just looked at his sleeping son, noting how the boy seemed to be disappearing into the pale white sheets.
He looked at his wife, the woman who had been their rock, now shaking in his arms.
In that moment, he felt a crushing weight in his chest, a hollow reality he never, ever wanted to face. It was a weight he had never known a human heart could carry, the agonizing vulnerability of a man realizing that his love might not be enough to save them.
…
'Ouch.' Another sting on my arm.
Even at the end, the hospital hasn't run out of needles. I could feel myself being rushed somewhere. Probably nurses, they were rushing me towards the emergency room while shouting about something.
I wanted to ask what was happening, but I was locked inside myself. I felt as though I were sinking into a cage of my own skin.
I was conscious enough to hear the panic, but too far gone to participate in it.
My eyes wouldn't open; my limbs were heavy stones. Whether it was the medication or my body finally hitting its limit, I didn't know.
All I knew was the overwhelming pull of sleep, and for the first time, I didn't try to fight it. I could hear those familiar voices screaming nearby.
But I couldn't understand what they were saying. I was feeling very lightheaded, floating somewhere above the chaos. It felt like my body had become a cage I couldn't escape.
I wasn't scared anymore; I was just so, so tired.