Chapter 3 - The Ghost of Us
Her words cut deep because they were true. Three years ago, Elias hadn't known how to navigate the emotional storm of Hannah's depression. He had built walls, focused on his career, and offered practical solutions when all she needed was his presence. That was why she left. She had packed her bags on a Tuesday morning while he was at a board meeting, leaving only a note that read: I am drowning, and you are standing on the shore.
Elias spent the next week transforming his life. He took an indefinite leave of absence from his firm. He packed a bag and essentially moved into Room 417. He learned the names of every nurse on the floor. He learned how to read Hannah's monitors. He was determined to be the man he wasn't three years ago.
But Hannah fought him at every turn. Her pride was a wounded animal. When she struggled to sit up to drink water, she swatted his hands away. When the pain spiked, she bit her lip until it bled rather than ask him to call the nurse.
"Let me help you," he pleaded one evening as she violently threw up the meager hospital dinner into a plastic basin.
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"I don't want you to see me like this!" she sobbed, collapsing back onto the pillows, shivering uncontrollably.
He took a warm, damp cloth and gently wiped her mouth, brushing her tangled hair back. "I see you, Hannah. Just you. And you're beautiful."
