Six

The hospital room was dimly lit when I was finally allowed to see Grandpa. The soft glow of a single overhead light illuminated his frail figure, tucked beneath the stark white sheets. The beeping of the heart monitor was steady but quiet, almost as if it were mimicking the slow rhythm of his breathing. My heart sank as I approached the bed, my footsteps muffled against the sterile tiles. He looked older somehow, even more fragile than he had the day before. It was like the stress of everything had stolen what little vitality he had left.

“Grandpa,” I whispered, pulling a chair close to his bedside. His eyes fluttered open at the sound of my voice, and for a moment, there was a flicker of recognition. He squeezed my hand weakly when I took it in mine, and the warmth of that small gesture brought tears to my eyes.

He moved his free hand toward the oxygen mask on his face, trying to pull it down. The nurse, who stood near the corner of the room, gently intervened. “You need to keep that on, Mr. Montrose,” she said softly, guiding his hand back to the bed.

I knew what he wanted. He wanted to talk, to say something important, but the mask and his condition wouldn’t allow it. I leaned closer, squeezing his hand tightly. “It’s okay, Grandpa,” I said, my voice trembling but steady enough to convey reassurance. “You don’t have to say anything. I know.”

His eyes searched mine, filled with questions, fear, and the unmistakable hope that only comes from love. I could feel my chest tighten as I looked at him. I knew exactly what he was worried about

.

“Whatever you saw on the news about Theo, it’s not true,” I said firmly. “It’s all just a big misunderstanding. I’m working on fixing it. Theo would never do something like that. You know him—he’s your grandson. The Theo we know would never steal.”

A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, and I reached up to wipe it away gently. “We’ll get through this, Grandpa,” I continued. “Theo’s going to be fine, and so are you. You’ll see him soon, I promise.”

His lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile beneath the oxygen mask, and that small gesture filled me with a bittersweet sense of relief. I leaned down and kissed his wrinkled hand, holding it close to my heart for a moment. “You just focus on getting better, okay? Leave the rest to me.”

Magretehovered nearby, watching the interaction with quiet empathy. She stepped forward after a moment. “He needs rest now, Ella,” she said gently. “It’s been a stressful day for both of you.”

I nodded but didn’t let go of his hand right away. “I’ll stay with him tonight,” I told her. “You’ve done so much already. Go home and get some rest—you can come back in the morning.”

She hesitated, looking between me and Grandpa. “Are you sure? It’s no trouble for me to stay.”

“I’m sure,” I said with a small smile. “Thank you for everything. Truly. But I’ll feel better staying here with him tonight.”

She gave me a warm, understanding hug before she left. “Call me if anything changes, okay? I’ll see you both in the morning.”

As the door closed behind her, the room felt quieter, almost eerily so. I settled into the chair beside Grandpa’s bed, my fingers still wrapped around his. He had drifted off to sleep, his breathing shallow but even. The soft glow of the monitors cast shadows on his face, highlighting the deep lines etched by age and worry.

I couldn’t stop the wave of emotions that hit me as I sat there. Guilt, exhaustion, fear—they all swirled together, threatening to overwhelm me. I thought about the years Grandpa had spent taking care of us, about how he had always been our anchor no matter what storms we faced. And now, here he was, fragile and fighting for every breath, because of the chaos that had invaded our lives.

I wanted to be strong for him, to show him that I could handle everything on my own. But the truth was, I felt like I was breaking under the weight of it all. Theo’s arrest, Grandpa’s health, the bills piling up—it was too much. And yet, I had no choice but to keep going. For him. For Theo. For our family.

The night stretched on, and the hospital seemed to grow quieter with each passing hour. I rested my head on the edge of the bed, still holding Grandpa’s hand. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor became almost hypnotic, lulling me into a state of half-awareness.

Every so often, I’d glance at him, checking to make sure he was still breathing, still fighting. His face was so peaceful in sleep, a stark contrast to the turmoil I knew he felt when he was awake. I wanted to shield him from everything, to protect him from the harsh realities that had invaded our lives. But I couldn’t. All I could do was try to make things right—somehow.

When dawn began to break, casting a soft pink hue across the room, I finally allowed myself to close my eyes for a moment. But before I could drift off, I felt a slight squeeze on my hand. My eyes snapped open, and I saw Grandpa’s eyes fluttering awake.

“Good morning,” I said softly, smiling down at him. “How are you feeling?”

He didn’t answer, of course—he couldn’t with the oxygen mask—but his eyes said enough. There was a faint glimmer of warmth there, a quiet acknowledgment that he was still fighting. I brushed a stray curl from my face and leaned closer.

“You’re going to see Theo soon,” I said, my voice steady and confident. “Just focus on getting better, okay? We need you here, Grandpa. I need you here.”

He gave the faintest of nods, his eyes fluttering shut again as exhaustion took over. I sat back, feeling a mixture of relief and heartache. He was still with me—for now. And I would do everything in my power to keep it that way.

As the morning light filled the room, I made a silent promise to myself. No matter how difficult things got, I wouldn’t give up. Not on Grandpa, not on Theo, and not on the life we’d built together. Because family was all we had, and that was worth fighting for.