The hospital had become Sky's second home. Two weeks had passed since his grandmother's surgery, and every day had blurred into the next—morning coffee in a paper cup, the smell of antiseptic, the sound of nurses' shoes squeaking down the hall. He barely touched his guitar in those days. Instead, his hands were busy adjusting pillows, bringing water, or feeding soup to the woman who had kept him alive in more ways than one.
She was sitting up now, looking frail but smiling. The surgery had been a success, and the doctors said her recovery would be slow but promising. Still, the news about her cancer lingered like a shadow neither of them could ignore.
That afternoon, sunlight spilled across her bed, turning her silver hair into a soft halo. She reached for his hand, her fingers thin and warm.
"Sky," she said softly, "thank you… for always being by my side. For everything."
He gave her a small smile, shaking his head. "Don't thank me, Grandma. All my life, you've been the one taking care of me. You're all I've got. I'll do everything I can to make sure you get better. That's not a promise—it's a fact."
Her eyes watered. "Your father… your mother… they would be so proud of you."
Sky looked away, blinking fast. He didn't like talking about his parents, not because he didn't remember them, but because remembering hurt too much.
Instead, he squeezed her hand. "You just focus on getting well. I'll handle the rest."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet was comfortable, filled with an unspoken love that didn't need flowery words to exist. Sky stayed until she fell asleep, watching her chest rise and fall before he finally stepped out into the cool evening air.
---
While Sky's world was quiet and heavy, Zara's was glittering under chandeliers.
It was her 21st birthday, and her father—never one to do things halfway—had gone all out. The Blackwell estate (three stories of glass and white stone) was lit up like a palace, with spotlights scanning the night sky. A massive "21" balloon display guarded the entrance, and the driveway was lined with luxury cars belonging to her guests.
But the centerpiece of the evening was parked right in front of the house: a brand-new Cybertruck, gleaming like a spaceship. Its sharp angles reflected the flashing lights from the rented DJ booth.
"Happy birthday, baby girl," her father said, pulling her into a hug before handing her the keys. Cameras flashed as friends and relatives clapped and whistled.
Zara laughed, tossing her perfectly styled hair over her shoulder. "Oh my God, Dad! You're actually insane."
"You deserve it," he replied, grinning.
The party spilled into the backyard, where fairy lights draped over tall hedges and waiters in black suits moved through the crowd with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. A live band played upbeat pop songs while a dance floor glowed under the feet of Zara's friends.
Henry was there too—looking every bit the golden boy in his tailored navy suit. He greeted Zara with a cheeky grin.
"So this is what turning twenty-one looks like," he teased.
Zara smirked. "Of course. I don't do small."
Henry glanced at the Cybertruck. "You planning on driving that to class? Or should I prepare my sunglasses?"
"Funny," she said, rolling her eyes. "You just wish you had one."
They laughed, clinking their champagne glasses.
---
But amid all the music, laughter, and clinking glasses, Zara couldn't help but notice one absence.
Sky.
Not that she had expected him to come—she hadn't even invited him, mostly because she figured he wouldn't want to be there. Still, she'd gotten used to seeing him around school, hearing his sarcastic remarks in the hallways, or catching him scribbling in his notebook when he thought no one was watching.
Now, after two weeks of not seeing him, she felt a small, annoying emptiness.
She pushed the thought away and threw herself into the celebration. Her friends pulled her to the dance floor, photographers snapped shots of her blowing out candles on a massive three-tier cake, and her father gave a toast about her "bright future" that made everyone cheer.
---
Meanwhile, Sky was sitting in the hospital cafeteria with a paper cup of tea, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. A newsfeed notification popped up—pictures of Zara at her party, all smiles and glitter, the Cybertruck gleaming in the background.
He stared at it for a moment, expression unreadable, then locked his phone and shoved it back into his pocket.
Different worlds.
And he knew which one he belonged to.
---