The hospital walls felt too white.Not clean. Not sterile.
Just white and… empty.
Like the inside of my chest.
I walked beside the gurney as they rushed Mira down the corridor — my hands on her, my breath tangled with hers, my heart beating so violently I could hear it over the sound of the wheels hitting tile.
Her fingers kept slipping from mine.
I kept pulling them back.
I couldn't let go.
I couldn't stop touching her.
Because the moment I did, it felt like she would disappear.
"Sir, you need to stand back—"
"No."
I didn't even raise my voice. I didn't have to. A single look froze the nurse in place.
They pushed her into a room. I followed until a doctor blocked the door with both arms spread wide like he could physically stop me from entering.
"You can't come in. She needs immediate intervention—"
"I'm not leaving my wife."
"You have to," he insisted. "Please. Let us do our job."
The words hit harder because they weren't confrontational.
They were afraid.
