I thought I would feel relief, but I don’t.
My patience snaps into something colder, sharper.
“Why not?”
Her fingers curl into the blanket. Knuckles white. “I’m not registered here yet.”
“So go to A&E.”
Her head jerks up. “No.” The word comes out too fast. Too loud. Too stubborn.
“Lani—”
“I can’t,” she says, panic edging her voice now. “I don’t—please don’t make this into a thing.”
That’s when I really look at her.
Not the fever. Not the shaking.
The fear.
It flashes across her face before she can hide it – old, ingrained, defensive. Like hospitals aren’t neutral places to her. Like they come with consequences.
Finn used to be like that too. When he was younger and couldn’t stand up for himself against his father, he would come to us each summer sporting fresh injuries and a tangible fear of the authorities being notified.
I straighten slowly.
“Right,” I say.
She blinks. “Right?”
“I’m taking you to seesomeone.”
Her eyes widen. “Sol, no?—”
“We’ll go to the minor injuries unit,” I continue, already moving, already planning. “Or the GP in town. Or the local hospital if I don’t like what I see. It doesn’t have to be A&E.”
Her breath starts coming faster. She shakes her head, curls tighter into herself. “I’m fine. I just need rest. I’ll be fine.”
“You’ve been ‘fine’ for days,” I snap. “You can barely stand.”
She tries to get up on her own. Makes it halfway. Then her knees give out.
I catch her without thinking.
Her body is too light in my arms. Too fuckingwrongand yet somehow so fuckingright. She gasps, fingers fisting in my shirt like she’s drowning and I’m the only solid thing left. For a second she freezes – then slumps against me, all fight draining out of her like she’s been holding herself upright on stubbornness alone.
“I don’t want to go,” she whispers, voice thick. “Please.”
The word lands harder than anything else she’s said.
I don’t soften but something inside of me does despite myself.
I shift my grip instead, wrapping the blanket tighter around her shoulders, anchoring her against my chest. Keeping her steady when she can’t do it herself.
“Then you’re coming with me,” I say. “And we’ll figure it out from there.”
She shakes her head weakly. “You can’t just decide things for me.”