With a deep sigh, I walked over and nudged her shoulder. “Vanessa!”
She barely shifted.
There was no real movement or words, just the slow rise and fall of someone deep in sleep.
I stood there for a second longer than I should’ve.
It wasn’t a surprise, but it was still a disappointment.
I exhaled, turned, and walked out of the room, already dreading the next part—telling Kyrin.
When I stepped into our room, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on his sneakers, concentrating hard like the laces were serious business.
I sat beside him. “Well, sport… looks like it’s just gonna be me and you today for your appointment.”
Kyrin paused.
For a second, the excitement on his face dimmed.
“So Mama’s not coming?” he asked, in a knowing tone.
I shook my head slowly. “Not today.”
He looked down for a moment, quiet, then he shrugged in that little brave way kids do when they don’t want you to feel bad. “It’s okay.”
Before I could say anything, Kyrin leaned over and wrapped his arm around my neck, pulling me into a hug.
“As long as I got you, Jo, I don’t care if nobody else shows up for me.”
My throat tightened instantly.
“You take care of me, you cook for me, you help with my homework, and you take me everywhere. You even play the game with me when you’re tired,” he added with a small smile. “You’re the best sister ever.”
I blinked fast, forcing the tears to stay where they were.
He didn’t need to see that.
I kissed the side of his head. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I squeezed his shoulder and stood up before my voice betrayed me. “Now finish getting dressed before we’re late. I’ll be in the bathroom if you need me.”
He nodded and went back to tying his shoes while I turned away, taking a slow breath to pull myself together.
***
The cardiology office always smelled like lemon disinfectant and quiet worry.
Kyrin swung his legs from the exam table, wearing the oversized hoodie I’d made him put on. His sneakers bumped the metal frame with a steady rhythm, like he was counting down until we could leave.
Dr. Hill stepped in with his usual warm smile, white coat open over his shirt and tie. He was in his early forties, the kind of man women whispered about in waiting rooms. He was tall, had a neat haircut, and a voice just deep enough to make “How are you feeling?” sound like more than a casual question. And even though I’d caught him looking at me a certain way before, I knew better. Married or not, he wouldn’t get the time of day from me.
“Good afternoon, you two,” he greeted us, then turned his full attention to Kyrin. “Hey, champ.”
He tapped his fist against Kyrin’s, then glanced down at the chart in his hand.
“You behaving for your sister?”