Day 139

                                    

                                          
Gary's pacing was relentless, his eyes darting from the clock on the wall to Wren, counting down the minutes with a tension so thick it made the air in the room almost suffocating. He muttered something under his breath, inaudible, but the anxiety in his voice was palpable.
Wren sat upright in her hospital bed, a small laugh escaping her despite the weight of the moment. "Dad, relax, it's okay," she said, trying to soothe him, though her own nerves simmered just beneath the surface.
Trey sat slouched in the armchair beside her, his leg bouncing impatiently. He chewed his nicotine gum like his life depended on it, the familiar urge for a cigarette clawing at his nerves. His fingers fidgeted with his lighter, desperate for anything to quiet the gnawing stress.
Wren glanced between the two of them, her eyebrows raised in exasperation. "Oh my god, you're both stressing me out."
"Sorry..." Gary and Trey said in unison, their voices overlapping as they exchanged sheepish looks.
The door creaked open, and Dr. Scott entered, clipboard in hand. Her face, usually composed, now wore a somber expression. Immediately, all eyes were on her. 
"Well?" Wren asked, her voice trembling, the anticipation thick in the room. But even before Dr. Scott could respond, they saw it on her face—the disappointment, the heaviness of bad news about to fall.
"I'm sorry, Wren," Dr. Scott began, her voice low and empathetic, "the kidney went to someone else."
The words hung in the air, heavy, sinking into the silence that followed.
"What?" Gary's voice cracked with disbelief, the anger surging through his veins.
"They determine the most critical cases," Dr. Scott explained, her tone steady but soft. "It goes to those in the greatest need. We'll keep waiting. It'll happen. I'm so sorry."
Gary's face flushed with rage, the disappointment and helplessness boiling over. "Fuck!" he shouted, hurling his paper coffee cup against the wall. It hit with a dull thud, the liquid splattering in messy arcs down the sterile white surface. He stood there, breathless, the frustration pulsing through him like a storm he couldn't control.
Wren's chest tightened, her breathing growing rapid and shallow as panic gripped her. Disbelief spread across her face, her emotions unraveling too fast for her to contain. Tears streamed down her cheeks as sobs wracked her body. She gasped for air, each breath a struggle, her sobs morphing into hyperventilation.
Trey's hands clenched into fists at his sides, every instinct screaming at him to punch something, to tear the room apart in a fury. But he knew it wouldn't change anything, wouldn't make the kidney come back. Instead, he shoved the anger down, burying it deep as he moved to Wren's side. Without a word, he pulled her into his arms, holding her as tight as he could, trying to shield her from the crushing disappointment that neither of them could outrun.
She sobbed against his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt. Trey held her, rocking her gently, his own tears burning at the edges of his vision as the weight of it all pressed down on them. There was nothing left to do but wait. Wait for the next chance, the next hope, and pray it wouldn't slip through their fingers too.