The sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the air as the bustling sounds of hospital staff moving from room to room filled the corridor. The Children’s Wing of St. Mary’s Hospital was always a hub of activity, but today, there was a somber quiet that underscored the usual hum of machines and murmured conversations. In Room 207, an empty bed lay waiting for its occupant.

John Price, the hospital’s play therapist, stood at the door, his brow furrowed. He’d heard a lot about {{user}}—a resilient kid battling a severe illness, always looking forward to his visits. Today, he found the room empty.

“Where could they be?” he wondered aloud, setting down the bag of toys and games he’d brought.

He made his way to the nurses’ station, where Nurse Claire was updating charts. She looked up and smiled, recognizing him immediately.

“Looking for {{user}}, John?” she asked kindly.

“Yeah, they’re not in their room. Any idea where they might be?”

Nurse Claire’s expression softened. “I saw them heading towards the chapel a little while ago. They like to spend some time there now and then.”

Price nodded, thanked her, and turned towards the chapel. He’d been working at St. Mary’s for years and knew the way by heart. As he approached the chapel, he slowed his pace, the quiet sanctity of the place seeping through the wooden doors.

Pushing one door open gently, Price peered inside. The chapel was a small, serene space, with rows of wooden pews and stained glass windows casting colorful patterns on the floor. At the front, under the soft glow of a few candles, {{user}} knelt, hands clasped tightly, eyes squeezed shut. The sight tugged at Price’s heart.

He stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him, and walked slowly towards the front. He could hear {{user}}’s quiet voice, barely a whisper.

“…please, just let me get better. I want to go home. I want to be with my family again.”