I'm all she's got

The hours dragged on, each one stretching longer than the last. It was late, the night thickening around me like a blanket of isolation. The fluorescent lights in the hospital room hummed softly, the steady rhythm of the machines surrounding Nat filling the silence in a way that only made it more unbearable.

I hadn't left her side since the doctor let me in. I couldn't. I wouldn't.

I sat there, my hand never leaving hers, my fingers wrapped tightly around her cold, pale skin. I watched her face, willing it to move, willing her to open her eyes and tell me that this had all been some nightmare. That it wasn't real.

But she didn't move. She just lay there, the faint rise and fall of her chest the only sign that she was still with me. Every time I blinked, it felt like I was falling into a haze.

I kept replaying everything over and over in my mind—her slow breakdown, the way she hid it behind her smile, the way she pretended everything was fine, even when it wasn't. I should have seen it. I should have known.

I let out a shaky breath, rubbing my thumb over her hand, trying to comfort myself in the only way I knew how. "I'm sorry, Nat," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you needed me."

The door creaked open, and I glanced up to see a nurse step inside. She had a kind face, though her eyes were tired—probably from the long shifts spent in the chaos of the ER. She offered me a small, sympathetic smile, but it didn't bring me much comfort.

"How is she?" I asked, my voice quiet but desperate.

The nurse adjusted the IV in Nat's arm before looking at me again. "She's stable for now," she said, her voice soft. "We're keeping her under observation. She's been through a lot, Billie. Physically, emotionally... it's going to take time. It's important for you to stay strong for her. She's going to need a support system when she wakes up."

I nodded, barely able to hold my composure. "I'm all she's got," I said, more to myself than to her.

The nurse gave me a sympathetic look, then turned to leave. "I'll check on her again soon. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call."

As the door clicked shut behind her, the room felt quieter, more suffocating. I turned my attention back to Nat, my eyes tracing the soft curve of her cheek, the subtle rise and fall of her chest. I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me, but I fought it. I couldn't fall asleep. Not now. Not when she needed me the most.

I stood up and grabbed the chair beside the bed, pulling it closer. Then, without thinking, I sat down on the edge of her bed, resting my head against the pillow beside hers, my hand still tightly holding hers. I didn't care how uncomfortable it was. I didn't care that I was drained, both physically and emotionally. All I cared about was that Nat could feel my presence, even in her unconscious state.

I let the silence envelop us for a while, the only sound the steady beep of her heart monitor. I knew this was just the beginning of the long road ahead, and I had no idea how long it would take for Nat to heal. But I had to believe she would heal. She had to.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pulled it out, my heart skipping a beat when I saw the message was from an unknown number.

It was a text.

Billie, I know you're probably mad at us, but we all want to help. Please let us know if we can do anything for Nat. We'll be here for you both.

It was from one of the staff members at the cafe. I stared at the message for a long time, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

I wanted to be angry. I was angry. But at the same time, I knew I needed help. Nat couldn't do this alone, and neither could I.

I texted back, keeping it short.

Just keep the cafe running. We'll talk later.

I set my phone down on the bedside table and took a deep breath, trying to focus on the present. Right now, I wasn't angry. Right now, I was just holding on. Holding on for Nat.

The hours passed in a blur of fragmented thoughts, and at some point, I must have drifted off, because I was startled awake by a soft voice calling my name.

"Billie?"

I jerked upright, blinking rapidly. The voice was faint but unmistakable.

"Nat?"

Her voice was barely a whisper, but I heard it clearly enough. I stood up from my chair, leaning over her, my heart racing. Her eyes were still closed, but there was something different about her—something... there.

"Nat, it's me," I whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "You're safe. You're okay. You're at the hospital."

Her eyelids fluttered slightly, a weak attempt to open them, and I felt my heart lurch in my chest. "Billie...?" she croaked, her voice rough from not speaking.

"Yes, baby, I'm here," I replied, my voice trembling as I fought back the tears. "I'm here. You're going to be okay."

She opened her eyes, just a crack, but it was enough. Enough to make me believe, if only for a moment, that things were going to be okay. Her gaze was unfocused, confused, and she didn't seem to fully recognize where she was, but that didn't matter right now. What mattered was that she was here. She was alive.

"You... you came," Nat murmured, her voice weak, her hand squeezing mine just slightly.

"Of course, I came," I said, brushing her hair back from her forehead. "I'm not going anywhere, Nat. I'm right here. Always."

She tried to smile, but it was faint, a tired curve of her lips. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't," I said quickly, squeezing her hand. "Don't apologize. You don't need to say you're sorry."

Her eyes fluttered closed again, exhaustion clearly overtaking her. But before she drifted off, she squeezed my hand one more time, a soft reminder that, even in her broken state, she still needed me. And I wasn't going to let go. Not now. Not ever.