"Derek is in a really bad place right now. I'll stay with him for a bit, then come to the hospital—I promise!"
She didn't wait for a response. Left me there, barely conscious, and rushed out.
When I woke up, a nurse was adjusting my IV.
"Finally. The doctor said if you didn't wake up today, there was a real chance you wouldn't wake up at all."
I winced at the throbbing in my skull. "How long was I out?"
"Full day and night."
Something twisted in my chest. "Did anyone... come by?"
She considered it, then shook her head. "Your room's right by the nurses' station. I've been on shift the whole time—didn't see a soul."
I nodded. And felt something I had no right to feel.
A full day and night. She'd been with Derek the whole time.
But I'd expected that.
I pushed the feeling down and focused on recovering.
It wasn't until the third evening—IV finished, discharge papers ready—that Smokey finally showed up.
"Babe, Derek had an acute episode. The doctor said someone needs to stay with him constantly..."
She wrung her hands.
"You know how depression is. If he's alone, he might do something stupid. He's already tried before—multiple times."
"I figured you had doctors and nurses here, so..."
"I know," I said flatly. "You don't have to explain."
Relief washed over her face. She actually smiled.
Then she pulled out the watch—the same one she'd used to crack my skull.
My hand was still numb from the IV, so I let her fasten it around my wrist.
Silence stretched between us.
I stared out the window. Memories flickered past—our first date, our wedding, all those years together.
It was almost over now.
The sadness surprised me.
Smokey didn't notice. She was hunched over her phone, thumbs flying across the screen.
When the bleeding on my hand finally stopped, I got up to handle the discharge paperwork. Only then did she put the phone away.
"Hey," she said suddenly. "There's a lantern festival at Downtown Plaza tonight. You write wishes on them and release them into the sky."
She tucked her phone into her pocket.
"I've been so busy lately. This could be nice—just the two of us?"
I almost said no. But the train station was near the plaza anyway.
"Sure."
She beamed and took my arm as we headed downstairs.
For a moment, it felt like the old days. Back when we first met.
But we weren't those people anymore.
Outside, her car was parked right at the entrance. The one I'd bought her.
I reached for the passenger door—but the window rolled down first.
Derek grinned at me from my seat.
"Hey, bro. Sorry about this. Smokey wanted me up front, so..." He shrugged. "Back seat's all yours."
Smokey's face tightened. "The doctor said Derek needs to get out more. Fresh air helps with—"
"Fine."
I walked around to the back without another word.
But when I opened the door, there they were: a torn black stocking and a pair of men's underwear, crumpled together on the seat.
"Oh—don't get the wrong idea!" Smokey twisted around. "Derek spilled milk during an episode. I just forgot to clean it up."
Milk. On underwear. While wearing how many layers, exactly?
I didn't ask.
"Just drive. The festival's starting."
She exhaled, relieved I hadn't exploded, and pulled away from the curb.
At the plaza, Smokey left us behind the crowd while she went to grab lanterns.
The second she was gone, Derek's eyes dropped to my wrist.
"Nice watch." His smile widened. "Wait—isn't that the one Smokey got me? Pretty sure I threw that in the trash." He laughed. "You really go digging for my garbage? That's dedication, bro. Tell you what—she's given me tons of stuff. I'll hook you up."
