Page 59 of Dreams and Desires

And now, I can’t even save him.

I stand up on shaky legs, needing to put some distance between myself and the suffocating reality that’s closing in around me. “I... I need some air,” I manage, my words breaking.

Dominique nods, understanding in her eyes. “Take all the time you need,” she whispers.

I don’t look back as I leave the room, my steps quickening as I make my way down the hall. I burst through the exit doors. Outside, I gasp for breath, my hands trembling as I grip the railing of the stairs, trying to steady myself.

I sink to the ground, my back against the cold brick wall, and bury my face in my hands. I don’t know how long I sit there, crying silently, my body shaking with the force of my grief. My mind is numb, unable to process the enormity of what’s happening. Jacob is slipping away from me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

“Please,” I whisper to the empty air, my voice hoarse from crying. “Please don’t take him from me. He’s all I have left.”

The tears come harder now, and I can’t hold them back. I cry until I have nothing left, my sobs quieting to small, hiccupping breaths. The sky grows darker above me, and I wonder how I’ll find the strength to go back inside, to face my parents, and to face the reality that Jacob’s time might be running out.

Eventually, I stand, my legs weak and unsteady. I wipe my face with the back of my hand, trying to compose myself as best I can. I have to be strong—for Jacob, for Dominique, and for myself. I can’t afford to fall apart, not now.

I drag air deep into my chest, pulling myself together before heading back inside. The hospital’s fluorescent lights seem too bright and too harsh as I walk back to Jacob’s room. My steps are slow, and every movement is deliberate as I force myself to face what’s waiting for me.

The hospital halls are too quiet—the kind of quiet that amplifies every small sound, making my heart race even faster. When I push open the door to Jacob’s room, my breath catches in my throat. The bed is empty. The sheets are pulled back neatly, as if no one was ever there. Panic floods through me, sharp and icy, and I stumble back, my mind spinning.

I burst out of the room and into the hallway, my eyes wild as I look around for any sign of him. A nurse passes by, and I grab her arm, all frantic. “Where’s my brother? Where’s Jacob?”

The nurse looks startled, then her expression softens with pity. “He’s in surgery, ma’am. They found a donor.”

My brother is in surgery right now. How did they find a donor so quickly? I don’t understand. But there’s no time to process it. All I can do is wait. Wait and hope.

The nurse guides me to a waiting area, and I collapse onto one of the chairs, my legs unable to hold me up. I look around, half-expecting to see Zade, but he’s nowhere to be found. But I have more things to worry about—my brother.

Hours pass in a blur of exhaustion and fear. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I know, Dominique is gently shaking me awake. I jolt upright, breath caught in my throat. It takes a second to remember where I am. Everything’s too quiet.

“Jacob?” I whisper. It comes out rough—somewhere between hope and panic.

“The surgery was a success,” Dominique says softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “He’s going to be okay.”

The words barely register before the sobs come crashing over me, a tidal wave of relief, guilt, and overwhelming emotion. Dominique pulls me into a hug, and this time, I cling to her like she’s a lifeline, my body trembling as I let everything out—all the fear, all the pain. Everything.

“Thank you,” I whisper over and over, my words muffled against her shoulder. “Thank you, thank you.“

After what feels like an eternity, I finally pull away, wiping my tear-streaked face with the back of my hand. My heart feels lighter, but there’s still a heaviness in my chest, something unresolved. “Can I see him?” I ask..

“Of course,” Dominique says, guiding me toward Jacob’s room. “He’s still unconscious, but he’s stable.”

I step into the room, my breath catching in my throat as I see Jacob lying there, pale but alive. The steady beeping of the monitors is oddly comforting, a sign that he’s still here with me. I approach the bed slowly, like I’m afraid that if I move too quickly, this fragile reality will shatter. Taking his hand in mine, I press akiss on his forehead, feeling the coolness of his skin against my lips. “I’m here,” I whisper, my voice tinged with emotion. “I’m right here.”

As I sit beside him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, the events of the day replay in my mind, especially the moment when I lashed out at Zade. The guilt gnaws at me, persistent and sharp. He was trying to help, and I shoved him away. He drove me here when I needed him the most, and I repaid him by pouring all my anger and frustration on him. The memory of the hurt in his eyes stings, and I can’t push it away, no matter how hard I try.

He left, just like I asked him to. But instead of feeling relieved, all I feel is this hollow ache inside me. It’s not satisfaction, it’s not peace—it’s emptiness. As much as I want to tell myself that I’m better off without him, that I don’t need him complicating my life, I can’t ignore the truth gnawing at me.

“I didn’t mean it,” I whisper to the empty room, my eyes on Jacob but my thoughts far away. “I didn’t want him to go.”

The more I sit there, the more regret builds inside me. I miss him. I miss the way he looked at me and the way he stayed close, even when I pushed him away. I miss his presence and his stubborn determination not to give up on me. He said he wouldn’t leave, and now that he’s gone, all I can think about is how wrong I was to push him away.

What if he’s really gone for good this time? The thought sends a pang of fear through me, sharper than I expected. I don’t want that. I want tosee him again, to apologize, and to tell him that I was wrong. But he’s not here. He’s nowhere to be found.

The room feels colder and lonelier without him. I realize, with a sinking heart, that maybe I’m not okay with his absence. Maybe I need him more than I am willing to admit. As I sit beside Jacob, holding his hand and watching over him, I can’t help but hope that Zade will come back and that I’ll get the chance to make things right.

Chapter Thirty-One

Juniper

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