The sky was dark, with only the soft moonlight casting its glow. A gentle breeze came in through the window, carrying the floral fragrance of the garden.
Katherine glanced at the buzzing phone on her bedside table. 12:00 AM. The wallpaper was one of the pictures they had taken earlier that day. Their first one.
Her fingers brushed over the screen, tracing the outline of their smiles. It had been a simple day. But a very happy one.
"Dhjshdh." She glanced down at the man mumbling in his sleep.
Her husband.
His head was resting on her bed.
His glasses were lying crookedly on his nose, his hand still lightly holding hers, as if afraid to let go even as he slept.
Her eyes drifted to her daughter, curled up on the couch, sleeping peacefully for a change. No restless tossing. No sudden jolting awake. Just like before
Her family was finally together. Reunited.
She smiled, drifting off to sleep too.
******************************************************************************
"Beep. Beep. Beep."
The steady rhythm of the heart monitor filled the quiet room. The occupants of the room were fast asleep, lost in their dreams.
The beeping changed. It quickly became a loud, single, continuous beep.
Alex jerked awake. His glasses fell, and he quickly picked them up as he sat straight, blinking in confusion. Ellie stirred on the couch, groggy, still too sleepy to process what was happening.
Then the door burst open.
A nurse rushed in first, followed closely by two more. One flicked on the overhead lights, bathing the room in harsh brightness.
The sudden brightness cleared all the sleep from her eyes.
"Ms Powel? Can you hear me?" One of the nurses leaned over Katherine, checking her vitals. No response.
"Mom. Mom." Ellie called, realizing something was wrong.
Alex shot up, hitting his foot on the bedside table. "What's happening? What's wrong with my wife?" His voice cracked.
No one answered. A nurse pressed the emergency button on the wall. A moment later, two more medical staff entered—one of them carrying a crash cart.
Ellie also stood, making her way to her mother's side.
"Sir, Ellie, I need you both to step outside."
They stood in the hallway, staring at the closed door, listening to what was happening in the room.
"Pulse is weak and thready," one nurse reported.
"BP is dropping."
"Starting compressions,"
"Her oxygen levels are plummeting."
Every word they heard had their blood run cold.
A warm hand took Ellie's
"Dad." His hand was trembling.
He squeezed her hand in response.
"Charge the defibrillator to 200."
The machine whined as it powered up.
"Clear!"
The heart monitor paused —then returned to a continuous beep.
"No response."
"Again. 300."
"Clear!"
Another jolt. The same long beep.
"Still no response. Pushing another round of epi."
Seconds stretched into eternity.
"Come on, Mom," Ellie whispered, rubbing her locket. "Please." Her mom could die. Not now, not when they just got her father back. They were supposed to go to the amusement park, they…..
"Time of death: 12:42 AM."
The announcement felt like a stab to her chest.
Ellie felt the world tilt, then go black.
******************************************************************************
"Mom"
"Nurse. "Nurse." A chair scraped back. "My daughter is awake."
Ellie stirred awake. A white ceiling swam into view. She was lying on a hospital bed, the IV tube in her left hand tugged as she tried to sit. She turned her head slightly. Her father was standing by the door, his shoulders stiff, his face pale and weary.
"Dad, where is Mom?" She asked, her voice was hoarse
He didn't answer, his hands clenched into fists by his side.
What happened last night was not a dream.
Her mom was really gone.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
"Ellie dear, how do you feel?" Mrs. Peter said softly as she walked in. "I'm so sorry about yesterday."
Ellie blinked slowly.
Yesterday.
Her mom died yesterday.
She didn't respond.
She didn't want to. Her closest family was gone.
She turned to face the window, her gaze landing on the gazebo outside— where just two days ago, they had been taking pictures.
Rain started to patter against the window.
The sky was grey.
Just like her world.
******************************************************************************
The rain hadn't stopped. Pattering against the window in steady beats.
Ellie packed her stuff in silence. Her father was talking to a nurse by the entrance.
She barely listened as the nurse went over discharge instructions with her father. The words blurred together—adequate rest, eating properly, grief counseling. She tuned it out. Leaving the hospital without her mother intensified the hollow feeling in her chest.
A knock brought her back to the present.
"I thought I'd miss you guys," Mrs. Peter entered the room holding 2 envelopes. "Kathrine wanted me to give you both after she passed."
She handed one to each of them.
Ellie hesitated before taking it. She turned the envelope in her hand over, recognizing her mother's handwriting on the front. It felt heavy, like it carried more than words. She kept it in her bag with the rest of her stuff. She didn't dare open it yet.
Her father thanked Mrs. Peter.
She must have said something in response, but Ellie didn't hear.
Before she knew it, they were walking down the hospital corridors. The same corridors she had walked with her mother on their way to the garden.
When they passed the nurse's station, many nurses called out goodbyes, passing her snacks and wishing her well.
She could only nod in response.
The automatic doors slid open, and a gust of cool, rain-scented air hit her.
Her father held an umbrella over her head as they walked to the car
She climbed into the car, robotically buckling her seatbelt. The rain drummed steadily against the roof, the rhythmic sound filling the silence between her and her father.
"Could you enter the house address into the GPS?" Her father asked as he started the engine.
She did so and turned her head towards the window as the hospital faded into the background.
Her fingers brushed over the bag on her lap, where the letter rested.
"Are you hungry?" Her father's voice was rough, like he already knew the answer.
Ellie shakes her head. She hadn't eaten for days, only sustained by IV drips.
******************************************************************************
The house was exactly how they left it, wilted flowers stood in the vase on the center table. Her mom's favorite mug sat beside it with the book she was reading.
Ellie heads straight to her room, locking the door behind her.
"Ellie. Ellie." Her father called, running after her.
She didn't answer.
"Call me if you need anything, dear." He finally said, stepping away.
She unpacked her bag, and the envelope fell out. She stared at it, seconds stretching into minutes, before finding the courage to open it.
My sweet Eleanor,
I don't know where to start. I'm sorry I broke my promise. I wish I had more time to watch you grow and achieve your dreams.
Thank you for everything you have done these past few months. You were my strength through everything.
I have many regrets in life, but you are what I am proudest of. You're the best baby girl I could have asked for.
I love you very much, and your dad does too.
Now that I'm no longer here, you can depend on him.
I need you to do just one thing for me.
Take good care of yourself, and please, don't forget to eat.
—Mom
Ellie folded the letter and carefully placed it back in the envelope.
Unlocking the door and leaving her room.
She heard a sound coming from her mother's room. Looking through the open door, she saw her father crying, clutching his own letter.
He had been acting strong for her. Bottling his emotions to be her rock. They were both grieving.
Ellie stepped away from the doorway, leaving her father to his grief.
She made her way to the kitchen. The rain still pattered against the windows. There was a bag of groceries on the counter.
She rummaged through it before pulling out what she needed. Bread. Cheese. Tomatoes. Butter.
A grilled cheese and tomato sandwich.
She buttered the bread, placed the grated cheese and sliced tomatoes in the middle, just like her mother used to do, and put it in the pan, listening to the quiet sizzle. The smell filled the kitchen, warm and familiar.
Footsteps sounded behind her.
She didn't turn. "I'm making dinner," she said, flipping the sandwich. "Yours too."
Silence. Then, a chair scraped against the floor.
She slid a plate toward him before sitting down. "Bon apetite."
He stared at the plate before finally picking it up and taking a bite.
"This was the first meal your mom made me."
He had a smile on his face… She smiled too.
They had each other.