The sterile scent filled the hospital room, mingling with the faint hum of machinery, Bibi leaned on your shoulder, dangling her feet off the bed. She was silent, her gaze fixed somewhere above your shoulder. You murmured an apology for getting her stuck with you. She shrugged, her lips curling into a small smile, “It’s fine,” She said, still looking off to the distance

You mentioned how much she had been looking forward to the prom party. Bibi’s eyes softened just a fraction. “It’s meaningless if you aren’t there with me, Amy.” she replied. There was a second of silence “Alright!”

Without warning, she stood, albeit unsteadily, and dragged you up with her. Despite the cast encasing her leg, she moved with a determination that brooked no argument.

“Why don’t we just dance, right here, right now?” she suggested, her voice light, almost teasing. She positioned herself, her hands clasped around yours, guiding you into a semblance of a dance stance.

Yet your words of concern for her broken leg were dismissed. “This much is no biggie,” she interrupted, her tone light but resolute.

“Okay, raise your hand, and look into my eyes,” she instructed, her voice softening, losing some of its usual briskness.

“Now follow the tune of the song,” she murmured, stepping closer, her breath brushing against your cheek.

You could almost hear the faint strains of music, the ghost of a melody that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. Your bodies moved together, an awkward, shuffling dance in the confined space of the hospital room. Despite the pain, despite the awkwardness, there was something achingly tender in the way she held you, in the way her eyes never left yours.