Chapter One Hundred Fourteen: The Hospital

The hospital was on the east side of the city.

I drove alone. I didn't tell Daniel. I didn't tell Adrian. I just got in the car and drove. The same way I'd driven to the cemetery. The same way I'd driven to my father's cabin. The same way I'd driven to every difficult thing I'd ever had to face.

The building was old. Brick. Worn. The kind of place where people went to die quietly. I parked in the lot. I sat in the car for a long time. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. I just sat there.

Then I got out.

The receptionist gave me the room number. Third floor. Room 312. I walked to the elevator. I pressed the button. The doors closed. The car rose.

The hallway was quiet. The lights were dim. The smell of antiseptic hung in the air. I walked to the door. I stopped.

I didn't knock. I just stood there.

Then I pushed it open.

He was lying in the bed. His eyes were closed. His breathing was shallow. He looked smaller than I remembered. Older. Thinner. The same man who had sat across from me in that cabin. The same man who had handed me the folder. The same man who had said he was sorry.

I walked to the chair beside the bed. I sat down.

I didn't speak. I didn't take his hand. I just sat there.

After a while, he opened his eyes. He looked at me. He didn't look surprised. He just looked at me.

"You came," he said.

"I came."

He nodded. He didn't smile. He didn't have the strength.

"I didn't think you would."

"Neither did I."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "I'm sorry."

I didn't respond.

"I'm sorry for leaving. I'm sorry for not being there. I'm sorry for everything."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"I know," I said.

He closed his eyes. He didn't speak again.

I stayed there. I didn't know how long. The clock ticked. The machines beeped. The light shifted. I just sat there.

---

Cecilia found me in the hallway.

She looked older than I remembered. Tired. Worn. She didn't smile when she saw me. She just looked at me.

"You came," she said.

"I came."

She nodded. She didn't say anything else.

We stood there. The hallway was quiet. The lights were dim.

"He's dying," she said.

"I know."

"The doctors say it's only a matter of days."

I didn't respond.

"He's been asking for you. For weeks. He wouldn't let me call you. He said you wouldn't want to see him."

"He was wrong."

She looked at me. She looked at me the way she had when I was a child. Like I was a puzzle she couldn't solve.

"I'm sorry," she said. "For everything. For Julian. For Mira. For not telling you what I knew."

I didn't respond.

"I was scared. I was weak. I didn't want to lose what I had."

"You didn't lose anything," I said. "You were never part of it."

She didn't respond. She just looked at me.

I walked past her. I walked to the elevator. I pressed the button. The doors closed.

I drove home.

---

That night, I found Adrian on the balcony.

He was standing at the railing. The city stretched out in front of him. The sun had set. The lights were on.

I stood beside him. He didn't turn.

"I saw him," I said.

He didn't respond.

"He's dying."

He didn't respond.

"He said he was sorry."

He turned. He looked at me.

"And?"

"I told him I knew."

He looked at me. He looked at me the way he had a hundred times before.

"That's enough," he said.

I looked at the city. At the lights. At the sky.

"Okay," I said.

The city hummed below us. A siren wailed in the distance. A light flickered on a far-off building. I listened to the sounds of the night.

He didn't reach for me. I didn't reach for him. We stood at the railing, two people who had spent years chasing the same ghost, and watched the city breathe.

Tomorrow, the headlines would run. Tomorrow, the world would move on.

But tonight, the balcony was quiet, and the sky was clear, and for once, I didn't want to be anywhere else.