Heartache is the price the soul pays for caring too much.
I sat by Ábel's bedside, the hospital room wrapped in an eerie silence except for the soft whisper of pages turning. My voice was low, calm, as I read aloud. His face, usually so full of life, was peaceful in sleep, his breaths slow and steady. I hoped the familiar words reached him.
The door creaked open, and I glanced up to see Alex slipping in, a paper bag in his hand. He offered a small smile before heading to the small table by Ábel's bed. Without a word, he began unpacking fresh fruit—apples, bananas, grapes—placing them neatly on the table.
I nodded, my focus returning to the book.
Alex had a way of caring that didn't need to be spoken out loud. I kept reading, my voice steady, weaving a quiet comfort into the room. Every so often, Alex changed up the fruit on the table, making sure Ábel would have plenty of fresh ones to choose from when he finally opened his eyes.
The quiet was comforting, the room filled with the soft cadence of my reading and the occasional rustle from Alex. A while later, I closed the book, letting its familiar weight rest on my lap. The quiet hum of the hospital surrounded us, broken only by the soft beep of machines.
Alex stood by the wall, arms crossed, his gaze distant. I could feel the tension radiating from him, like he was wrestling with something unsaid. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Shay… can you look into Elsie? I'm anxious."
I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. "I already did."
His eyes met mine, a mixture of relief and worry flickering across his face. He opened his mouth as if to ask more, but then stopped, nodding slowly instead. I could see the weight of his concern easing just a little, though it didn't disappear entirely.
"Thanks," he murmured, his gaze drifting back to Ábel.
I didn't say anything else, just sat there with the closed book in my hands, the room once again falling into a companionable silence.
The stillness in the room, Ábel's steady breathing, the quiet tension in Alex's stance. It all seemed to hang in the air like a suspended breath, waiting for something to shift. And then, I made a decision.
"Alex," I began, my voice low and steady. He turned to look at me, his brow furrowing slightly.
His expression softened a little, but the concern still there. "What is it?"
I hesitated. This wasn't easy, but I had to say it. "Elsie... She's been chasing dark mages."
Alex blinked, processing the words. "What?"
He blinked again, his mouth opening and closing as though the words I'd spoken didn't make sense in his head. "But… why? Why would she—"
Alex just stood there for a long moment, staring at me like I'd just told him the world was ending. He opened his mouth again, then closed it, unable to find the right words.
I could feel a knot tightening in my stomach as I watched Alex try to process what I'd just told him. I didn't want to say it, not really, but I had to. The truth had a way of clawing its way out, no matter how much I tried to bury it.
But now, there it was, hanging between us, and I could already see the shift in his eyes. I knew that look. It was the same one he got whenever something ignited that protective streak of his. He was about to do something reckless, and I couldn't stop it.
"Alex…" I began, my voice lower now, a warning in it. "You can't go after her."
He blinked, his eyes meeting mine, confused. "What?"
"I know you," I interrupted, my voice rising just a little, the fear creeping in. "I know you care about her. But this isn't something you can fix."
Alex stared at me, the weight of my words slowly sinking in. I could see the conflict in his eyes—the pull between wanting to help her and knowing he might not be able to stop her once she got going. But it didn't matter. He had to understand. He had to realize that this wasn't his battle.
"I get that you want to help," I added, a little softer now. "But this is her choice."
Alex blinked, the words hitting him like a cold wave. His eyes flickered with confusion, then slowly, with realization. Elsie had chosen this path. She'd chosen to leave, to go after the dark mages on her own, and there was nothing anyone could do to change that. No matter how much he cared, no matter how much he wanted to protect her, this was her fight, not his.
I could see the words slowly sinking in, the shift in his posture as the weight of it hit him. It wasn't easy to accept. But the reality was cruel.
"Why..." Alex's voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper. "Why didn't she come to me? Why didn't she let me help?"
I took a deep breath, my gaze steady on Alex as I spoke, trying to make him understand, even if the words were hard to say.
"Because you already have a pack, Alex. You have a family to care for."
His brow furrowed, confusion still clouding his expression as he processed my words.
"She didn't want to drag you into this, not when she knows how much you have to lose." I paused, the weight of those words pressing against my chest. "You've got people to look after. You have us. And she doesn't want to put you in the position where you have to choose between us and her. It's her battle now. She's made that choice."
Alex's expression softened, though the ache in his eyes didn't fade. "So... we just let her go?" His voice was raw, desperate for a way out of this helpless feeling.
"No," I said quietly. "We don't let her go. But we can't fight her battles for her."
I looked at Alex, my voice quiet but firm. "You know, this—this is the first time I've actually admired her decision."
Alex glanced at me, confused.
"Elsie's courage, her resolve to leave you behind and face this on her own, it's... something I respect," I continued, feeling the weight of the truth settle on my chest. "Most people wouldn't be able to do that. To walk away from the ones they love, to risk everything because they know it's their fight, not anyone else's."
The words felt heavy but right.
Alex's silence was more telling than any words. I could tell he was struggling to process it, the reality of what I was saying sinking in. "I know it hurts," I added, trying to soften the impact. "But this is her choice. And maybe, just maybe, it's the bravest one she's ever made."
There was a long pause, the tension hanging in the air, and for a moment, I almost regretted saying anything at all. But I couldn't go back now. I had to hope that Alex would listen, that he would see reason.
Finally, he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I don't know what to do with this, Shay."
"I know," I said quietly. "Neither do I."
Alex's voice cracked as he finally spoke, the words hanging in the air like a weight neither of us could shake. "Do you think she'll ever come back to me? Or is this... is this why she doesn't write back or pick up the phone? Because she left me behind for good?"
The question hit me harder than I expected, and for a moment, I didn't know what to say. It was like watching a piece of him crack in real-time, something I'd never seen before. Alex wasn't the type to show vulnerability, but there it was, raw and unfiltered.
I wanted to tell him that Elsie would come back, that it was all temporary, that maybe she just needed time. But deep down, I knew better.
"She's doing what she has to do, Alex," I said, my voice softer now.
The silence stretched out between us. I had no easy answer for him.
(...)
We left the hospital in silence, the weight of everything lingering between us.
"Want to do something?" I asked, trying to shake the tension.
Alex shrugged, still not fully with me. "I guess... grocery shopping."
I nodded, relieved to have something simple to focus on. "Alright, let's go."
We made our way to the store in silence. I grabbed a cart and let my thoughts wander as I moved down the aisles. I grabbed a loaf of bread, some pasta, milk—the usual.
I could tell Alex wasn't really here, even as we pushed the cart down the aisles. His mind was elsewhere, somewhere far off. Probably with her. Elsie.
It wasn't hard to spot. He kept picking up things, then just as quickly putting them back, like he couldn't focus on anything. His eyes wandered across the shelves, but it was clear his head was somewhere else entirely.
I grabbed more items from the shelves, doing my best to pretend I wasn't aware of the storm inside his head. It wasn't my business, but I couldn't help but notice how... empty his gestures were. He didn't even seem to care that I kept tossing things in the cart.
He stopped in front of a display of peaches, staring at them for longer than necessary. I could practically hear him thinking. Probably something about how Elsie loved them. Maybe he was even wondering if he'd ever buy peaches for her again.
I didn't say anything at first. I didn't need to. But I could feel the weight of his silence hanging over us.
"Alex," I finally spoke, my voice softer than usual, "You good?"
He didn't answer right away, but I could see his fingers hover over the peaches, his expression blank. Like he was stuck between a past that no longer existed and a future he couldn't picture.
"I just don't know what to do anymore," Alex muttered, breaking the silence.
I could barely make out the words, but I heard the heaviness in his voice. The ache. He'd been holding onto that for too long.
"You don't have to do anything," I said, keeping my tone light, but there was a seriousness in it. "You can't keep waiting for something that may never happen."
He didn't look at me, but I could see his jaw tighten. "I'm not waiting. I'm just... hoping," he muttered.
I paused, looking at the cart, then at him. He looked like he was trying to convince himself. I wanted to tell him something—anything—to make it easier, but the truth was, I didn't know how to fix this for him.
"She left, Alex," I said, matter-of-fact. "She made her choice. It's her fight now. You've got your own life here."
I could see him flinch at my words. His grip on the cart tightened, and I knew he didn't want to hear it. But sometimes the truth had to be said, whether it hurt or not.
"I know," he whispered.
He sounded so small, so... lost. It was hard not to feel for him. But I couldn't coddle him. He had to face it eventually.
He didn't respond right away, but I could see the wheels turning in his head. It wasn't the kind of response he wanted. He didn't want to hear that Elsie might not come back, but deep down, I knew he needed to hear it.
The silence lingered for a moment before he finally sighed, the weight of it all settling over him. "I don't want to let go," he muttered, almost to himself.
I didn't say anything in return. There was nothing I could say that would magically make it easier. He had to let go on his own time.
Eventually, he picked up a peach, almost absently, and dropped it in the cart, his movements sluggish. I didn't bother commenting.
We continued down the aisle, the tension between us still thick, but for once, I felt like I was in the right place. There wasn't much I could do to fix what was going on inside Alex's head, but I was here.
I glanced at him and said it—simple, direct, and maybe a little too blunt, but he needed it. "You'll be alright."
He didn't respond right away. Maybe he didn't believe me, maybe he didn't know how to. But I knew he would be, eventually. In his own time. He just had to find his way through this mess, like everyone did.
His gaze shifted to me, and for the first time in what felt like ages, his lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. It wasn't much, but it was something.
"Yeah," he muttered softly. "Maybe."