"Breathe. In and out, mommy. Please"
The child clung to her mother's hand, her once brilliant hazel eyes now dull and brimmed with tears. Her mother was lying on the hospital bed, the constant beeping of the monitors breaking the dimmed harmony of the child's muffled sobs. Despite her paled body being ravaged by illness and pain, the mother managed a smile for her sole daughter.
"I am, sweetheart. It's okay," the mother assured, but there was an evident sheen of sorrow in the mother's expression that told the child otherwise. The child knew something was wrong, and yet couldn't manage to figure out exactly what it was—well, she wouldn't figure out until precisely 1:47 the following day.
The door opened, revealing a nurse and an aged man, the scruff and bags under his eyes adding to his disheveled appearance. He walked over to the duo and kissed the mother on her forehead, then looking to the child.
"Say goodnight, Bells, it's far past your bedtime and mom needs her rest."
The man and mother exchanged a look, one that was seen upon the assurance that the child wasn't going to pick up on it. It was a brief exchange of pain…
… An exchange of goodbyes.
"I love you, mommy," the child squeaked, breaking free of the man's grip to engulf her mother in a big, bear hug.
There was a grave, lingering silence as they embraced, and the mother mustered her strength to tell the child that she, in fact, loved her too—and after that exchange the child and man departed.