The monitor was a flashing red alert.
Arthur had ripped off his blanket and wires, his face contorted with a final, desperate act of defiance. Sarah grabbed him, her voice a sharp command.
"You’re not dying tonight!"
The alarms eventually faded, replaced by the soft ambient hum of the ICU. Arthur lay weak and still.
""I just wanted to end where she did," he whispered, his trembling hand seeking Sarah's. "Here. In this bed. In this room. It felt like the only way to be close to her again.""
Sarah squeezed his hand, her eyes meeting his. "Being close to her isn't about where you die, Arthur. It's about how you lived with her. And how you're still living now. You're her legacy. Don't let it end here."
Arthur looked at the window, where the first light of dawn was beginning to break, and for the first time, he let go of the room. He let go of the bed. And he let go of the silence.