I rushed into the hospital, breathless and frustrated, my chest rising and falling too fast. Traffic had been unbearable — every red light feeling like a personal attack.
I headed straight for the reception desk, giving my name and signing in with hands that wouldn't stop trembling. The moment I was cleared, I turned and hurried down the familiar corridor, my steps echoing against the tiled floor.
Mom's room was exactly where I left it.
She lay asleep on the hospital bed, her face pale against the white pillow, machines humming softly beside her. For a moment, I just stood there, watching her chest rise and fall, counting each breath like it was something fragile.
Relief washed over me — brief, temporary.
I didn't want to wake her.
Quietly, I stepped back into the hallway and made my way toward the nurses' station, my stomach twisting tighter with every step.
Nurse Kate was there, flipping through a file.
Nurse Kate looked up when she saw me approaching. Her expression softened immediately.
"Miss Greene," she said, setting the file aside. "Please, have a seat."
That alone made my stomach drop.
I sat, my hands folding tightly in my lap. "You said you wanted to see me."
She nodded slowly. "Your mother's condition has worsened over the past few days."
I swallowed. "Worse, how?"
"The dialysis isn't working the way we hoped," she said carefully. "Her kidneys are failing faster than expected."
The words settled heavily between us.
"What does that mean?" I asked, even though part of me already knew.
"It means we need to start discussing long-term options," Nurse Kate continued. "Dialysis can only do so much. At this point, a transplant would be the most effective solution."
My breath caught. "A transplant?"
She nodded. "Yes. Without it, her condition will continue to decline."
Silence stretched. The hum of the hospital seemed louder, harsher.
"And… until then?" I asked quietly.
"We can continue treatment," she said, her tone gentle but honest. "But it will require extended care, medication, and closer monitoring."
I hesitated before asking the question that burned the most.
"The cost?"
Nurse Kate didn't answer immediately.
"There are outstanding bills already," she said softly. "And moving forward, the expenses will increase."
My chest tightened.
I nodded like I understood, even though my mind was already racing ahead — counting shifts, tips, and numbers that would never be enough.
The thought of how many more nights I'd have to spend here, waiting on drunk men, serving drinks I couldn't taste, made my chest tighten.
Even if I worked double shifts, borrowed from friends, or sold the little I had, it wouldn't cover the bills. It barely covered the essentials.
I clenched my fists in my lap.
My mother's quiet breaths from her room echoed in my mind, fragile, unprotected. And the weight of it all pressed down like the night sky itself.
I had survived before.
I will survive now. But the question that wouldn't leave me was simple and terrifying: how?
"I'll figure it out," I said automatically. "I always do."
She reached across the desk, resting her hand briefly over mine. "I know you're doing everything you can, Miss Greene. I just wanted you to be prepared."
Prepared.
For what, I wasn't sure.
I left Nurse Kate's station and walked down the hallway toward Mom's room.
Each step felt heavier than the last, like the weight of all the bills, all the tips I hadn't earned yet, were pressing down on me.
When I opened the door, Mom was awake, her eyes half-lidded but smiling weakly when she saw me.
"Good morning, sweetheart," she whispered.
I knelt beside the bed, taking her hand gently. "Morning, Mom," I said, forcing a calmness I didn't feel.
She tried to sit up, but a small groan escaped her lips. I pressed the call button and waited as a nurse came to adjust her pillows.
"It's okay," Mom said softly. "I'm okay."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.
"I'll be okay too," I lied. But I wasn't.
Not really. Not when I saw how pale she was, how fragile, how tiny this fight made her.
I brushed a stray hair from her forehead. "We'll figure it out. Somehow," I murmured, mostly to myself.
She squeezed my hand lightly. "I know you will, my love. You always do."
Her words should have comforted me, but instead they made the fear knot tighter in my chest. I stood slowly, glancing back at her.
I had to leave. I had to survive this day. But as I closed the door behind me, a single thought burned hotter than everything else:
No matter what it takes, I cannot fail her.And I know exactly what I must do.