"Stop! You’re going to kill yourself!" Nurse Sarah’s voice cracked the heavy silence of the ICU.
Arthur looked at her, his eyes hollow, his wrist trembling in her grip. The blood on the white sheet was a stark reminder of his desperation. He didn't fight her. He just collapsed back into the pillow, his breath hitching behind the oxygen mask.
Sarah worked quickly, cleaning the wound and applying a fresh bandage. Her hands were steady, but her heart was racing. She had seen patients lose hope before, but this was different. This was intentional. This was a man trying to cross a bridge she wasn't ready to let him walk.
When she finally finished, she didn't leave. She pulled up a stool and took his hand. It was cold, like paper.
Sarah felt a lump in her throat. She looked at the room—the same flickering light, the same blue walls. She realized then that to Arthur, this wasn't a place of healing. It was a tomb.
"She wouldn't want this for you, Arthur," Sarah said softly, her thumb brushing over his knuckles.
"She’s waiting," he murmured. "I can feel her in the springs of this mattress. I can hear her in the way the monitor beeps. She stayed for me. Now it’s my turn to stay for her."
Sarah stayed with him until the sun began to peek through the blinds. She realized that sometimes, the hardest part of being a nurse isn't keeping a heart beating—it's giving someone a reason to keep it beating.