The elevator dinged softly.
Camila stepped out, her coffee half-drunk and now lukewarm in her hand. She didn't seem to mind.
Her other hand reached into her coat pocket — brushing past the folded corner of the little sketch Billy had shown her just days ago.
Her pace slowed near the nurses' station. Familiar faces smiled at her gently — the kind reserved for someone who'd been seen too many hours in the same chair.
"You holding up okay?" one of the nurses asked as she passed.
Camila nodded.
"Yeah. Just needed air."
"That boy of yours is still the calmest patient on this floor," the nurse smiled. "Quiet, but stubborn."
Camila smiled faintly.
"Sounds about right."
She kept walking.
Room 208.
She paused at the door.
Her fingers brushed the wood for a second, her eyes softening as she prepared herself again — that invisible armor siblings sometimes wear when they need to be brave for someone else.
Then quietly, she pushed the door open.
