3: The Promise

Mica pov

"No pulse!"

"Start compressions!"

"One milligram of epinephrine!"

The room blurred before my eyes.

Doctors swarmed around Ophelia's bed, their voices overlapping until they became meaningless noise.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I couldn't do anything except stare.

"No..." I whispered.

A nurse pulled me backward.

"Miss Hale, you need to step outside."

"No! That's my sister!"

Another pair of hands caught my shoulders.

"We're doing everything we can."

"Then let me go!"

My voice cracked into a scream.

"Ophelia!"

The doors slammed shut between us.

I pounded against the glass. "Please!"

Every beep from the machines felt like a knife twisting deeper into my chest.

Nyric hadn't moved. He stood frozen in the middle of the hallway, staring through the glass as doctors desperately fought for his wife.

His wife.

The woman he'd loved for ten years. The woman who had taught me that fairy tales could exist.

I'd always teased them. Called them disgustingly romantic.

Every anniversary, Nyric filled the mansion with white roses because Ophelia once admitted they reminded her of moonlight. Every Sunday morning, they'd drink coffee on the balcony wrapped in the same blanket, arguing over crossword puzzles.

They weren't perfect. But they loved each other. Everyone knew it. Everyone envied it.

Not even fate had been able to keep them apart.

Until now.

The monitor inside the room screamed again.

Then silence.

A long, endless silence.

The doctor slowly lowered his hands. One by one, the nurses stepped back.

"No..." I breathed.

The doctor looked at the clock on the wall.

"Time of death—"

"Don't." Nyric's voice cut through the hallway, low and dangerous. "Don't say it."

"Sir, I have to record—"

"I said don't."

My knees gave out beneath me.

This wasn't real. Someone was going to laugh and tell me it had all been a nightmare. Ophelia was going to walk out complaining about hospital food. She was going to hug me and call me Little Bean.

She wasn't moving.

The doctor walked out of the room first. His expression told me everything before he spoke.

"I'm sorry."

Two words. They destroyed my entire world.

I let out a sound I'd never heard before — something between a scream and a sob. I stumbled into the room. Nobody stopped me.

I threw myself beside Ophelia's bed, grabbing her hand. It was already getting cold.

"You're always cold." I forced a laugh through my tears. "I'll get you another blanket."

Nothing.

"You promised we'd watch that stupid cooking show tonight. I still haven't learned your pancake recipe." My voice broke completely. "So you have to wake up."

Nothing.

"Please. I don't know how to do this without you."

A tear slipped onto her skin. It stayed there. She didn't wipe it away.

She always wiped my tears away. Always.

I felt another presence beside me.

Nyric lowered himself slowly into the chair beside the bed. He didn't cry. He simply stared at her, his expression terrifyingly empty, like someone had hollowed him out from the inside.

He reached into his pocket and, carefully, slipped off his wedding ring.

My eyes widened.

Without a word, he slid it onto Ophelia's finger.

"I promised," he whispered. "I promised I'd never let you wear it alone."

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"I love you. I'll love you until my last breath."

I buried my face in the mattress and cried.

Hours passed. Or maybe minutes. Time no longer existed.

Eventually, hospital staff came to prepare Ophelia's body. A nurse approached us gently.

"There were some personal belongings she asked us to keep safe."

She handed me a small white envelope. Across the front, in Ophelia's familiar handwriting: *For Little Bean.*

My fingers trembled.

"There was another," the nurse said, handing a second envelope to Nyric. His simply read: *For My Husband.*

Neither of us opened them. Not yet. We couldn't. The pain was still too raw.

As we left the room, something made me look back one last time.

Morning sunlight spilled through the window, illuminating Ophelia's peaceful face. She looked happy. Almost as if she were simply sleeping.

I pressed the envelope against my chest.

"I'll keep my promise," I whispered. "I don't know how. But I won't let your dream die with you."

Outside the hospital, rain had begun to fall. Nyric stood beneath the entrance without moving, his black suit soaked within seconds. He didn't seem to notice. Neither did I.

For the first time in my life, the world felt impossibly quiet.

Then Nyric finally spoke, without looking at me.

"The funeral is in three days. I'll have someone bring your things to the mansion."

"My apartment is fine."

"You shouldn't be alone."

"I'll manage."

"You don't have to."

I looked at him. For once, there was no anger between us. Only grief.

"I don't think I can walk into that house," I admitted.

He closed his eyes briefly. "Neither can I."

The rain continued to pour.

Neither of us moved.

Neither of us spoke.

We just stood there — two people who'd lost the same woman, in two different ways, with no idea how to walk back into a world without her in it.