I barely remembered how I got to the hospital from the apartment. One minute I was laughing about a horrible date with Priya, the next I was running for my car, my chest so tight it hurt. Priye had offered to drive,as she felt I was not really in an emotionally stable state to drive. I didn't argue, because I didn't have the strength or will power to. I just needed to be with my family at that moment.
Mom had updated us that they were on their way to the hospital. I panicked when she didn't pick up after I tried calling back, immediately I received the text she had sent earlier on.
It's your father…kept flashing and replaying in my head, each replay worse than the last. By the time I hit the highway, every worst-case scenario had paraded through my imagination. Every siren jilted me up. I visualized flatlines, tubes, the kind of sterile beeping that ends private worlds. Priye did her best trying to distract me, she did give it her best even though I was unmoved. I only got a small respite when she sent that text.
"This means there's still hope right?" I asked priye desperate for confirmation.
"Ofcourse, just be calm. She's probably busy with the Dr. that's why she ain't picking."
"Okay"I said , praying desperately for that to be the case.
The hospital's fluorescent lights looked cruel as I rushed inside. I hated that I had become accustomed to the smell of antiseptic in the hospital. My shoes thudded against the hallway tiles, as I scanned for familiar faces, with Priye following from close behind like a body guard.
"Excuse me, Alvarez?" My voice cracked at the nurse's station.
She pointed me toward Room 312. My stomach lurched.
I pushed through the door alone, not ready for the worse, to break apart and was very apprehensive. But instead the sight made me freeze.
There in bed was my Dad propped up, his hair still damp with sweat, his face pale but… laughing. Laughing so hard he was wheezing. Mom sat beside him, laughing and wiping her eyes.
For a heartbeat, I couldn't breathe. Relief slammed into me so hard, my knees almost gave out.
"Dad?" My voice came out small.
He turned, grinning sheepishly. "Hey, kiddo."
Mom reached for me, explaining unprovoked. "He fainted. Briefly."
"That's briefly?" I croaked.
I pressed my palm to my mouth, but the tears came anyway. Warm and sudden. All my fears, the imagined grief, the helplessness, it poured out of me in a messy sob.
They both wrapped their arms around me. "It's okay."
"I…" My voice broke. "I thought…"
"I know." Her hand stroked my hair the way she did when I was little. "The doctors ran tests. His heart's fine. It was a side effect from the medication and maybe dehydration. They're adjusting things."
I moved towards my Dad and grabbed his hand like it was the only solid thing in the world and like my life depended on it. His fingers were warm, strong, familiar.
"I'm fine, Maya," he said softly. "Didn't mean to scare you."
"You can't just… faint and scare us like that," I whispered, half laughing through the tears.
He smiled. "What's life without a little drama?"
Despite myself, a small laugh escaped. It felt strange and raw, but real. Dad, was been Dad again.
Out of habit, my eyes flicked toward the hallway, half expecting to see the tall, kind-eyed doctor I'd noticed on previous visits, the one who always seemed quietly competent and disarmingly handsome. But the doorframe was empty. No sign of him tonight. My mouth opened, tempted to ask Mom if he was on duty,but I bit it back. There would be time for that later, and this moment belonged to Dad. Instead I asked my mom to inform Priya Dad was okay, to pull her out of her mystery as well.
The nurse came in with discharge papers, explaining the updated medication schedule. Mom fussed with Dad's jacket, muttering about salt intake and hydration like she could personally ward off fainting spells through sheer nagging.
When they stepped out briefly to handle paperwork, I stayed behind, sitting by Dad's bed. The room was quieter now, the adrenaline slowly working its way out of me. The faint beep of a monitor from the next room pulsed like a distant heartbeat.
I bowed my head, clutching Dad's hand in both of mine. A quiet thank you slipped from my lips, to the universe, to chance, to anything that had spared him tonight.
My face was still damp, but the tears had stopped. Relief was an ache, heavy and tender. I could feel the weight of everything pressing in, work, my clients, relationship decisions, but the hospital bills was waiting like wolves at the door to which all my prior challenges paled in comparison. But for now, at this moment, I was just a daughter whose father was still here.
And that was enough.