Chapter 5: Room 402**
The sterile smell of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol hit Leo the moment he pushed through the heavy double doors of St. Jude's pediatric ward.
He kept his head down, walking past nurses who knew him too well. For six months, Leo had spent his nights sleeping on the stiff vinyl chair beside Bed 12, listening to the rhythmic, mechanical wheeze of Maya’s ventilator.
He entered Room 402.
The room was dimly lit, save for the soft blue monitors glowing against the wall. In the center lay seven-year-old Maya, her skin translucent, her tiny chest rising and falling in sync with the machine.
"Hey, butterfly," Leo whispered, walking to the bedside and taking her fragile, cool hand in his.
Maya’s eyelids fluttered open. A faint, tired smile touched her lips. "Leo... did you bring the stars today?"
Every night, Leo would draw paper stars and tape them to the ceiling above her bed so she wouldn't have to look at the blank white tiles.
"Better than stars," Leo smiled, gently squeezing her fingers. "I brought the medicine that lets us go home soon. No more beeping machines. No more cold rooms."
The door behind him creaked open.
Dr. Elena Rossi walked in, holding a clipboard with a red "FINAL NOTICE" stamp across the front page. Her eyes were warm, but heavily burdened with sorrow.
"Leo," Dr. Rossi said gently, kneeling beside him. "The hospital administration... they gave us until midnight. The specialized pulmonary filters from the biotech lab in Zurich... the board won't release them without upfront settlement."
"How much?" Leo asked evenly.
"Nine thousand eight hundred dollars," Elena sighed, looking down. "I tried to petition the charity board, Leo. I swear I did."
Leo reached into his pocket and placed the plastic card onto her clipboard.
May you like
"Run it," Leo said softly. "Please."
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