LAST DAYS IN THE HOSPITAL
Velaria's third month in St. Marcellus passed quickly. She had adjusted to the routine: the early morning checkups, the medicine sessions, and the long hours spent staring out of her hospital window. Yet, the best part of her day remained constant—Dylan.
He had a playful side that made her laugh, even on days when the medicine left her feeling weak and dizzy. The prospect of going home loomed over her like a shadow. The doctors had said she was finally in remission and would be discharged in three weeks.
She should have felt happy about it, but she didn't.
A few days before her departure, the two children walked through the hospital garden. Velaria held Dylan's hand tightly, amazed at how brave he seemed compared to her.
"You know," Dylan said suddenly, looking at her seriously, "I think you're the strongest kid here. Stronger than me, even."
Velaria felt her cheeks warm. "I'm… I'm not that strong," she admitted softly. "I just… try not to cry."
Dylan shook his head. "No, really. You're amazing. I've never met anyone like you. Promise me?" "What?" Velaria asked, curious.
"Promise me that you'll always be brave," he said, gripping her hand firmly. "Even after you leave here."
Velaria nodded, feeling his words warm her heart. "I promise."
"I don't want to leave," Velaria admitted as she sat on the grass beside Dylan. "I… I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too," Dylan said. "But we can still write to each other. I'll call you, I swear. And look, I brought something for you."
He handed her a small box. Velaria opened it carefully to find a delicate, glittery bracelet, an heirloom from his family.
Her fingers trembled as she took it in. "Wow, it's beautiful," she said with excitement. "I'll keep it forever," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.
Dylan nodded, swallowing hard. "And I brought two red boxes… one for you, one for me. We can put all our things inside, so if we meet again, we'll know it's us."
One evening, Velaria cried uncontrollably. "I don't want to go," Dylan squeezed her hand tightly. "I'll find you again. I promise. No matter what."
Her parents tried to comfort her, but nothing felt enough. She had formed a bond with Dylan that went beyond friendship. It was a connection forged in pain, bravery, and understanding.
"I don't want to go," Velaria whispered, holding his small hand. "Me neither," Dylan said softly. "But we can write letters! And I'll visit. You'll see!"
"We promised to be brave, remember?" Dylan added. "I promise," Velaria sniffled. "But it hurts."
"I know," Dylan said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Nothing can break our friendship."
"Don't cry again," he said, his voice shaking.
Velaria smiled faintly, clutching the red box Dylan had given her. Inside was a drawing of her, her parents, Dylan, and the garden. She gave Dylan a copy of her drawing too.
Three weeks later, the day arrived. Velaria's parents helped her pack her things while nurses checked her vitals one last time.
On that day, Dylan couldn't visit the hospital because of his mom and aunt. They had kept Velaria's discharge date a secret, hoping to prevent a scene.
Velaria waited patiently, her eyes scanning the entrance, hoping he would appear so she could say goodbye.
"Mum, Dad, can we wait a little longer? He's almost here," she pleaded, pressing her face to the window. Clutching the red box to her chest and remembering their laughter, she whispered, "I'll wait."
An hour passed, but there was still no sign of Dylan. Her parents gently guided her to the car, and she kept glancing back, desperate to see him or hear his voice calling her name.
Tears filled her eyes as her father drove away. Her chest felt heavy from not being able to say goodbye.
But then she recalled his words: "I won't forget you, I promise. You need to be brave, just like you've always been." She took a deep breath, trying to hold onto that comfort.
Her parents tried to console her too. They told her she would visit soon, and slowly, she found a bit of strength.
The next day, Dylan's frustration was clear. He searched the hospital from the moment he arrived, asking nurses, doctors, and even the cleaning staff where Velaria had gone.
"She's gone," a nurse finally told him gently.
Dylan's small shoulders slumped, and his fists clenched.
At first, he couldn't believe it.
"Why didn't his aunt tell him? Why keep it from him? He just wanted to say his last goodbye," he thought, tears welling in his eyes and sadness washing over him.
He ran to Dr. Nadia's office, where she was focused on some research papers.
She noticed him walk in and saw his worried expression.
"Dylan, are you okay? Come here, let me hug you. Don't be sad, dear," she said softly. "You know Velaria is a strong girl. She's doing just fine wherever she is."
But Dylan couldn't hold back. He ran into her arms, tears streaming down his face. "She's gone," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Nobody told me…"
His aunt stepped closer, trying to comfort him. "Stop crying, Dylan. You'll see her again, I promise." "Really? You promise?" he asked, looking up, his eyes still wet with tears.
"Yes," she said gently. "Remember, Velaria wants you to stay strong for her." He nodded slowly, remembering their promises.
That night, as Velaria lay in bed clenching the red box, she thought about the hospital. It had been a place of pain and fear, but it was also where she found Dylan.
Outside, city lights twinkled. Somewhere, Dylan was thinking the same thing, unaware of what the future holds.