Schedule the surgery. I’ll cover the cost.

Ava’s POV

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and sterile hope, a cruel irony that twisted my gut. Hope was a luxury I could barely afford, a fragile thing that now came with an unbearable price tag. I walked its quiet, white corridors like a ghost—silent, numb, but moving forward because I had to. My feet barely registered on the polished linoleum, each step a hollow echo in the oppressive silence. My hands trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly, around the folder pressed to my chest, its edges digging into my skin. Inside it was the contract. The one that sold my soul to the devil. The one that promised to save my brother’s life. It felt heavier than lead, radiating a cold dread that seeped into my bones.

I found the doctor at the nurses' station—Dr. Nair, a man whose presence usually brought a flicker of relief. He was kind and soft-spoken, with tired eyes that had seen too much suffering. He’d treated Eli for months, watched me chase funding with a desperation that must have been etched into every line of my face. He straightened when he saw me, his expression cautious, a flicker of concern replacing the usual professional calm.

“Ava,” he said gently, his voice low, as if afraid to startle a wounded animal. “You don’t have to say anything. We’re still working on… options, on finding more resources.” He trailed off, his gaze softening with pity. He thought I was here for another rejection, another plea for a miracle that wasn’t coming.

“I’m ready,” I said quietly, cutting him off before he could finish. My voice sounded foreign, hollow, as if it belonged to someone else, a stranger who had stepped into my skin. “Schedule the surgery. I’ll cover the cost.”

His brows furrowed, a slow dawning of confusion and disbelief spreading across his face. “Ava… that’s millions. His treatment, the specialized equipment, the lengthy recovery… Where—?” He stopped himself, his professional decorum warring with genuine astonishment. His eyes scanned my face, searching for an explanation, for a sign of a hidden benefaction, anything to make sense of my sudden, impossible claim.

“I have it,” I whispered, eyes downcast, unable to meet his questioning gaze. The lie felt like ash on my tongue, but it was a necessary one. The truth was a black pit I couldn't drag anyone else into. “Just… please, no delays. I want Eli prepped. I want him in surgery as soon as your team is ready. Tomorrow, if possible. The day after at the absolute latest.” I added, my voice picking up a desperate urgency. Every second felt like a luxury Eli couldn’t afford, a second stolen from his fragile future.

He paused, a long, pregnant silence stretching between us. I could feel the questions rising behind his kind eyes—How? Why now? What did you do? The unspoken inquiries hung heavy in the air, a silent judgment that pricked at my already raw nerves. But he didn’t ask. Perhaps he sensed the unyielding wall I’d erected around myself, or perhaps his compassion outweighed his curiosity. Instead, he nodded slowly, a profound weariness in his own posture.

“All right,” he said, his voice soft with caution, a note of gentle warning interwoven with his professional acceptance. “We’ll move forward. This is… extraordinary, Ava. We will start the pre-op protocols immediately. He’s been through so much already. Thank you. He’s… lucky to have you.”

I swallowed hard, the words catching in my throat like shards of glass. Lucky. The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth.

No. I was the lucky one. Lucky to have him, lucky that he was still fighting, still holding on, giving me a reason to sacrifice everything.

I stood outside Eli’s room for a long moment, my back to the wall, breathing in and out, trying to stop the frantic shaking in my hands, trying to regain some semblance of composure. I didn’t want him to see the tears that had dried into my skin, leaving taut, uncomfortable streaks. I didn’t want him to see the broken edges of the decision I’d made, the way it had fractured something deep inside me. I tried to smooth my clothes, to flatten the disheveled wildness that I felt pulsating beneath my skin. I focused on the mundane details – the faint buzz of the fluorescent lights, the muffled sounds of footsteps passing by, anything to ground myself.

When I finally stepped inside, the antiseptic smell seemed to fade, replaced by a faint, sweet scent—Eli's scent, a mix of hospital soap and his own unique, precious little-brother smell. He was curled up on the bed, a tiny, fragile figure amidst the crisp white sheets. He was thin, heartbreakingly pale, with dark circles under his soft brown eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and enduring pain. But then he saw me, and a miracle happened. His tiny face lit up like a sunbeam breaking through clouds, chasing away the shadows of illness.

“Ava!” His voice was a thin thread, but full of pure, unadulterated joy.