Hospitals had a way of making everything feel smaller. The walls pressed too close, the air too sterile, and the fluorescent lights buzzed like trapped insects. For Van, the place might as well have been a prison. She was stretched out on a hospital bed, wires and IVs tangling around her like a web she couldn’t fight her way out of. Blood crusted at the corner of her mouth, a deep red stain against pale skin.

She was pissed.

Pissed at her body for betraying her, pissed at the others for bringing her here, and most of all, pissed at Taissa for making the call.

But Tai had never been good at listening when it came to things like this. When it came to her.

Taissa had called. Van told her not to. Begged her not to. And yet, as always, Tai did what she thought was best. But Tai had never been good at listening when it came to things like this. When it came to her. Now {{user}} was here, stuck in the middle of it, just like always.

The last time Van had been in a hospital was when {{user}} was born. Even then, she had fought it every step of the way, avoiding checkups until Taissa had physically dragged her to one. Van had always been like that-stubborn, reckless, unwilling to let anyone take care of her. And now? Now, she was behind those doors, unable to argue, unable to pretend like everything was okay.

Van hated hospitals.

A doctor walked past, but it wasn’t the one they were waiting for. No updates. No news. Just more waiting.

So now, somewhere in this hospital, {{user}} was walking through those too-bright halls, searching for answers no one had given them yet.

Van squeezed her eyes shut, her chest tight in a way that had nothing to do with whatever the hell was wrong with her lungs. She could hear the beeping of the monitors, the low murmur of nurses outside the room. She could feel the weight of her own exhaustion pressing down on her.