Day 136

                                    

                                          
The doctor's office was sterile, the hum of the air conditioning filling the silence as Wren and her father sat side by side. Gary's hand trembled slightly as he held Wren's, squeezing it every few minutes in a vain attempt to reassure her, but it was really for his own anxiety.
The door opened with a quiet click, and Dr. Scott entered, Wren's file tucked under her arm. Her face was professional but warm, carrying the weight of something unspoken. "Sorry for keeping you waiting," she said, settling into her chair with the efficiency of someone who had delivered countless life-altering conversations.
Gary shifted, his grip tightening on Wren's hand. He wasn't sure he was ready for whatever was coming. He couldn't lose her, not after everything.
But Dr. Scott didn't linger in the tension. Her smile softened, a curve of reassurance that made Wren hold her breath. "We may have found a donor."
Wren's breath hitched as if the words struck her in the chest. Her hand shot up to her mouth, tears spilling freely down her cheeks before she could stop them. It felt unreal, like waking up from a nightmare into the bright, stunning clarity of hope. 
Gary sat in stunned silence, his mind struggling to grasp the enormity of what he'd just heard. A donor. He turned to Wren, seeing her cry, and something inside him broke open. His own tears followed, hot and uncontainable. "Are you... are you sure?" he managed, his voice cracking with a fragile hope he hadn't dared to let himself feel.
"It's not guaranteed, you know how these things go." Dr. Scott said, her tone gentle but firm, anchoring them in the reality of the moment. "But I've scheduled the operation for Friday."
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Gary couldn't stop himself—he knelt in front of Wren, pulling her into him, burying his face in her hair as they both sobbed, their relief and gratitude spilling out in waves that seemed to consume the room.
Trey spotted them down the hall as they returned to her room. From a distance, he could see the tear-streaked faces, Wren still red-eyed and Gary dabbing at his face with a tissue. Panic seized him instantly. Something was wrong. Without thinking, he jogged up to them, his heart pounding in his chest. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" His words rushed out before he could even catch his breath.
Wren's face was wet with tears but her smile glowing, nodded between sobs. "They might have found a donor."
The words hit Trey with the force of a tidal wave, but before the shock could fully settle, he couldn't help himself. Without thinking, he bent down, scooped her up out of the chair, and held her against him. "No way!" he laughed, his voice thick with disbelief, spinning her around like they were kids again.
Wren let out a breathless laugh, clutching onto his shoulders, her tears mingling with joy as they both laughed together, overwhelmed by the impossibility of the moment. The hall felt brighter, the world tilting just slightly in their favour for once.
"Whoa, careful!" Gary said, half-laughing, half-panicked as he watched Trey spin his daughter in the air.
Trey immediately froze, eyes wide as he set Wren back down gingerly, like she was made of glass. "Sorry, sorry!" he said, though his grin was irrepressible, the laughter still bubbling in his chest. 
But it didn't matter. Wren was smiling too, that wide, unstoppable kind of smile that felt like hope made real. They couldn't stop smiling, the weight of the moment hitting them all at once.
She had a chance now—a real chance. And for the first time in a long time, the future didn't feel like something to dread. It felt like something to reach for.
—
The hospital room became more than a place of healing for Trey and Wren; it was where their lives intertwined in the gentle threads of their shared conversations.
Trey sat beside Wren's bed, leaning against her mattress. The room was filled with silent excitement and hope.
He gazed at her with bright, joyful eyes. "What's the first thing you're gonna do when you get out of here?"
Wren's eyes fluttered with a spark of energy as she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I wanna go to the amusement park. And eat popsicles."
Trey's smile grew, a rare genuine expression of warmth. "I'll take you," he said firmly, a promise slipping from his lips as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
She managed a weak smile in return, her gaze steady despite her exhaustion. The simplicity of the promise seemed to offer her a small anchor, a reason to hold on through the relentless tides of her illness. For a fleeting moment, the hospital room was filled with the soft glow of hope, as if the future they spoke of was just within reach.