Elina couldn't take it anymore.
She knelt beside Ian, clutching his limp fingers. His skin was ice cold. His breaths came shallow, spaced too far apart. His lips were cracked and dry. His eyelids fluttered as if even his dreams were too heavy to hold.
She stood abruptly. "James," she said, voice tight and breaking, "get the car."
He didn't move. His eyes stared at her, glassy and stunned, as though her words had sunk through water.
Then she screamed.
"James! Bring the car!"
The house seemed to shudder in the silence that followed.
James snapped out of it, rushed into the next room, snatched the car keys from the hook, and bolted outside. The engine roared to life.
Leon came in next. Without a word, he slid his arms beneath Ian's fragile frame, lifted him onto his back like they used to when one had scraped a knee long ago. Ian didn't stir.
"Let's go," Leon said, voice hoarse with urgency.
Elina slid into the back seat beside Ian, keeping a trembling hand over his chest, counting each faint breath like a fragile heartbeat she might lose if she blinked.
Alisha stayed behind. She gripped the doorframe, knuckles white, feet rooted. She wasn't ready to say goodbye. So she didn't.
The car sped down the village road.
The noise stirred Willowmere awake. Neighbors stepped out, blinking in the early light. Children were pulled from windows. A silent crowd gathered near the Calix home.
Noah stepped outside, dread wide in his eyes. He scanned the driveway and empty road—and understood.
"They've taken him," Mira said softly, clutching her apron with shaking hands. "To the hospital."
Noah didn't hesitate. He spun on his heel, pulled out his phone, and called the next village for a van. Mira wrapped scarves tightly around Aria and Theo's necks, trembling as she prepared to go—but she couldn't leave the children.
Ten minutes later, the van arrived. Noah opened the door, and Mira, Aria, Theo, and Alisha climbed in, silent.
The air inside was thick with prayer.
At the hospital, the car screeched to a stop.
Leon flung open the door, lifted Ian again, and rushed through the sliding doors. "Help! He's crashing!"
A swarm of nurses descended. A stretcher appeared. Elina tried to follow, but a nurse gently held her back.
Dr. Aamir, a man in his forties with sharp eyes and a calm voice, rushed toward them. He scanned Ian's chart and barked orders.
"ICU. Now."
Leon stepped back, chest heaving. He understood the urgency. Multi-organ deterioration. Those words hit him like a punch. He staggered, sank to a bench, and buried his face in his hands.
Elina saw him collapse.
Her hands trembling, she moved past the others and entered the ICU.
Ian lay still, eyes closed. Machines blinked around him, trying to keep time.
She stroked his hair over and over, whispering, "Mom is here… I'm here, my baby…"
Outside, the hallway filled.
Mira clutched Aria tightly. Theo held Noah's hand. Even the children felt the heavy stillness—the way grownups' voices softened into whispers, the weight in the air.
Alisha sat motionless, fists clenched so tight her nails bit into her palms. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
Dr. Aamir stepped out.
He said nothing; his eyes said everything.
"I'm sorry," he said gently. "It's time. He's holding on—but just barely. You should be with him."
They entered together.
All of them.
Noah. Mira. Alisha. Leon. Elina. James. Aria. Theo.
The room was dim, quiet—lit only by the soft hum of monitors. Ian's chest rose and fell, slow… too slow.
No one spoke. They circled the bed, lost for words when none felt enough.
Then Ian stirred.
His eyelids fluttered. His mouth parted slightly.
Aria gasped and broke free of Mira's hand.
"Uncle Ian!" she cried. "Are you in pain?"
Ian's eyes opened.
He saw her first—her tear-streaked face, red and trembling. Theo stood silently beside her, fists clenched at his sides.
Ian tried to lift a hand. He couldn't. They helped him.
He placed a trembling hand on both their heads and smiled—slow, soft, fading.
He wanted to lift them. Tried. His arms barely moved.
Mira stepped forward. She gathered the children close to Ian's chest.
He whispered something only she could hear.
She nodded, kissed his forehead, and gently led the children out.
Silence settled again.
Ian reached out one hand.
Noah took it.
"Thank you," Ian whispered. "For giving me a place… for making me feel like I belonged somewhere."
Noah said nothing. He just held on.
One by one, the family stepped forward.
James rested a hand over Ian's. Elina kissed his forehead. Alisha touched his shoulder, trembling.
Leon leaned close, voice breaking. "I love you, little brother."
And Ian… smiled.
Not because he wasn't in pain.
But because he wasn't alone.
The machines beeped slower now.
His body barely holding on.
Somewhere outside, the sky began to lighten.
As if it, too, had been waiting.
And then, with the softest sigh—
Ian smiled one last time.
Eyes glassy. Heart full.
And let go.