The hospital smelled faintly of antiseptic and rain.
Suzanne walked beside her mother, her fingers cold around the file she carried. Her father had joined them straight from work, his tie loosened, worry hidden behind forced calm.
Ryan followed a few steps behind — quiet, steady.
He wasn't supposed to come. But when he'd said, "I'm going with you," neither Suzanne nor her parents had the heart to refuse.
In the elevator, the walls hummed softly. Suzanne looked down at her shoes. "You don't have to be here, Ryan."
He smiled gently. "Then tell me one reason I shouldn't."
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. "Because hospitals aren't exactly fun."
"Neither is seeing you scared," he replied.
The elevator chimed. Floor 6 — Oncology.
---
The waiting room was quiet except for the steady beeping of monitors behind closed doors. Suzanne sat between her parents, eyes wandering across the sterile white walls.
Ryan sat across from her, pretending to scroll through his phone but really just memorizing her face — the tiny worry line between her brows, the faint tremble in her fingers.
When her name was called, she stood up slowly.
Ryan rose too.
"Ryan," her mother began, "you can wait here if—"
He shook his head gently. "If it's okay… I'd like to be there."
Suzanne looked at her parents, then nodded softly. "He can come."
---
Inside, the doctor greeted them with a professional smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"How have you been feeling, Suzanne?"
"A little dizzy sometimes," she said honestly. "But mostly okay."
The doctor nodded. "That's good. We'll review your scans today."
Ryan stayed a few feet away, silent as the lights dimmed and the monitor flickered to life — showing images that meant everything and nothing to him.
The doctor's voice was calm, practiced.
"There's some… change in the mass. It's grown slightly, which means we'll need to adjust your treatment plan."
Suzanne's mother's hand went to her mouth. Her father's jaw tightened.
Ryan just froze — words slipping away like air.
The doctor continued gently, "It's not the worst news, but it's not the best either. We'll increase the sessions, monitor closely."
Suzanne nodded slowly, her expression unreadable.
She didn't cry. She didn't even flinch. She just asked, "Will I still be able to go to school?"
The doctor hesitated, then smiled faintly. "We'll try to make sure you can. But there might be days you'll need rest."
Ryan swallowed hard. She was asking about school… not fear, not death — just normal life.
That was Suzanne.
---
When they left the doctor's office, rain was falling again.
Ryan walked beside her, holding an umbrella over them both.
Neither spoke for a long time. The world around them was just gray streets and puddles reflecting city lights.
Finally, Suzanne said softly, "You shouldn't have seen that."
"I'm glad I did."
She looked up, startled. "Why?"
"Because now I understand what you're fighting," he said quietly. "And I swear you won't fight it alone."
Her lips trembled. "Ryan…"
He smiled faintly. "I mean it. I'll be here. Every hospital, every storm, every stupid day you want to give up. I'll be right here."
And then, for the first time, Suzanne didn't stop herself — she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
The rain tapped gently on the umbrella.
For a while, the world seemed to stand still.
---
That night, Ryan wrote in his notebook:
> "I saw her truth today.
And it broke me — but it also made me stronger.
I don't care how long we have.
I just care that she never walks alone again."
---