A/N: Hey guys, this is just me reminding you guys for the reviews and suggestions for any improvements I could make to keep coming and to read all the chapters leading up to this one and the other books. Thank you so much for your continued support, and I hope you have a good day whenever and wherever you're reading this!

Chapter 10 – Monica

"This is a surprise," Mom said, as I walked in through the door to her hospital room. "Where's your brother?"

"At work," I said, trying not to let the fact that I felt hurt by her comment affect my actions.

"How come you aren't at work yourself?" she asked me, and this time she was really testing my temper.

"You know that since I've become the manager at Javu's, I don't have to be in every day," I say, surprising myself at how calm I sounded, considering that I felt quite differently.

"Oh yeah," Mom said breezily, as if she had just remembered something from a shopping list that she had meant to buy but had forgotten.

"How are you doing, yourself?" I asked, thankful for the opportunity to change the subject, as I sat on the edge of Mom's hospital bed. Her nurses worked around us whilst we talked.

"So, so," she replied, suddenly looking more worn down than I'd remembered. "Your father still hasn't stopped worrying about me, though. Yesterday, he brought me a pack on how to write a will and insisted that we go through it together!"

"He's just trying to prepare for every eventuality," I said, a lump forming in my throat. Mom mentioning this made everything that I had been trying to forget about seem far too real, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could handle it. There had been a reason I had been putting off making many visits to the hospital, and I had only come today because of Chandler threatening me otherwise.

"I know that," Mom said, irritation now very clear in her tone. "But does everyone really have to keep treat me like I'm dying?"

I swallowed, but the lump wouldn't budge. "As I said, we're just trying to do what's best for all of us," I said, hoping that she wouldn't stay on this topic too long because I wasn't in the mood to argue. Luckily, the nurse started to talk.

"Can we get anything for you, Monica?" the one who was putting away Mom's laundry asked me.

"Just a flat white coffee would be good, thank you," I said, grateful for the change in topic.

"What about you, Judy?" the nurse asked Mom.

"I'll just have my usual coffee," Mom replied. "Thank you, Maureen," she added afterwards, as I realised that that was the nurse's name.

After the nurse left, an awkward silence filled the room. I didn't really have much to say to Mom, and turns out that she didn't seem to have much to say to me. Usually Dad or Ross were the ones who managed to keep a conversation going between us that didn't involve snide comments, and so with the absence of both, it was proving particularly difficult to find common ground.

To tell the truth, I was even missing the snide comments because there was absolutely no way in hell that I wanted all my last memories with Mom before she passed away to be of awkward silences and no proper conversations. Just as I was really starting to lose it by becoming bogged down in my own thoughts, the door to the room opened and in came Maureen accompanied by Dad.

"You have a visitor," Maureen announced, as she watched Mom and Dad hug each other.

I couldn't help but feel the love and affection radiating off them in that moment, and I felt the strong urge to break down because I knew that they wouldn't always be able to depend on each other for comfort like this, and it was truly heart-breaking. Even though neither of them had always been the nicest towards me, they were still my parents and still one of the couples that I looked up to.

I could tell that Maureen was feeling a similar way to me, especially as we met each other's knowing looks. She moved from where she had just set down the coffees, and started to hug me. I hugged her back because, even though she was only a familiar face from my visits here so we barely knew each other, any hug was still comforting in a moment like this.

Dad broke apart from Mom, and walked over to me. He embraced me in a bear hug. I noticed that his hands seemed to be a little wet, and noticed that his eyes were shining. The lump in my throat seemed to grow in size as I realised what had happened. I wanted more than anything to reassure him that he was always going to be able to be there for his adoring wife, but I knew, like he did, that it was impossible.

"How are you doing?" Dad asked me when we had stopped hugging, with a concerned look on his face and attempting to make eye contact with me.

"Fine," I said, trying my best to all of Dad's attempts.

"You sure about that?" he added, really trying to find a way in. I knew that he knew something was up, I just didn't want to worry him with everything that had happened with the twins, because I knew if he knew that they weren't speaking me to me and Chandler, that he would have questions. I simply couldn't bear the thought of offloading more stress onto him.

"No," I said, looking away. I had to look away because I could feel my eyes filling up with tears, because I had promised to myself that I wouldn't say anything, and now I had and have ruined everything. I could tell that Dad was more worried now and more desperate for me to answer him, yet I only seemed more convinced to not answer him at all costs. My brain was telling me that I should say because I couldn't hide behind this mask forever especially when it was barely working, but my heart was saying that it was a bad idea.

I stood there, trapped by this dilemma, becoming more and more convinced that I was developing some kind of stress-induced headache and wanting more than anything to break down and not have to carry so much on my shoulders everywhere I went.

"Monica?" Dad said hesitantly, sounding nervous as if he wanted to help me but wasn't sure what was the best way to do it. "Do you want…." He trailed off.

I moved closer to him, and fell into his arms. The hug was so comforting that I never wanted to let go, because for a minute, it was like I was a kid again when I was sure that Dad and Mom were going to be able to solve all my problems. It was like there was nothing that was big enough to do real damage, and I realised that not only did I long for that reality right now, I depended on it.

But it wasn't possible, and I knew as an adult that it was a false sense of security. Dad and I finally broke apart, and I wiped my eyes because I had been subconsciously crying. I sat back down at the edge of Mom's bed, and buried my head in my hands. I heard dad and Mom talking, and even a small laugh from Mom as she laughed at something Dad had said.

It was a beautiful moment to be part of and so that made it all the more unfair that all I wanted to do was burst into tears. My jean pocket vibrated, and slid my phone out to see who had messaged me. It was a text from Chandler saying that he had got out of work early, and wondered whether I wanted him to pick me up from the hospital.

I replied yes, because as much as I wanted to stay for Mom and Dad's sake, but I was unsure how much more of this I could take until I had a full breakdown. I wiped my face with the sleeve of my jacket, and turned back to face Mom and Dad.

"Chandler's coming to pick me up and take me home," I said, feeling guilty that I was leaving them. "Hope that's okay with you guys," I added.

Dad nodded. "That's completely fine," he said, speaking for Mom as well.

He hugged me before I walked out and tried to navigate my way out of the ward to the hospital entrance. Chandler pulled up in the car just as I walked out the main door of the hospital, and I hopped into the shotgun seat as fast as I could.

"Was the visit okay?" Chandler asked me, eyes wide with concern as spoke.

I looked at myself in the rearview mirror, and realised that I had massive streaks of mascara all down my cheeks and my eyes were still red and puffy from when I had been crying. My hair was the only thing that looked half decent, if a little messy. "It was fine," I said. "I just got a bit emotional, and Mom didn't make things any either for the both of us."

"Babe, I'm so, so sorry," Chandler said, looking at me as if my unhappiness greatly upset him. I saw him lit his hand off of the steering wheel as if he wanted to put his arm around my shoulders, but then remembered that he was driving and couldn't do it. Instead, he decided to squeeze my hand gently but firmly.

"I love you so much," I said, trying not to cry again, but this time out of joy that I still had someone that loved and appreciated me as much as he did on that night in London when we first got together.

"I love you so, so much more than you love me," he replied. He seemed to be trying to get me to argue with him over who loved each other more, as he knew that I would find it enjoyable and end up winning as I always did.

"That's not possible," I said, smiling to let him know that I appreciated the gesture. "You know that I always win things like this."

He nodded, and smiled. I was surprised at how graciously he had admitted defeat as he usually put up a much stronger fight, but he must have realised that I needed to be able to win. I decided that I really couldn't ask for a better and more supportive husband, and I just wanted to sob over how grateful I was.

"Mon, you're crying." I looked up and saw Chandler looking at me, the look of concern having returned to his face.

"It's happy tears, I promise," I said, squeezing Chandler's free hand reassuringly. "I just can't believe I ended up with someone as supportive and gracious as you."

"Me neither," Chandler replied, as if he himself was trying to stop the tears from flowing. "You really are the best wife I could ever, ever have been blessed with."

I nodded, but didn't say anything else because I wanted Chandler to be able to focus on driving us home safely. Chandler was literally my lifeline and I was more than glad to have had him after being with my Mom, because I'll be honest that she hadn't made the visit any nicer to bear than I already expected it to be and had rather attempted to make it worse just by being how she usually was with me, which had never been particularly good. Dad was much better, which I had expected because especially as I got older, he had started showing more of a caring side to me and, although it hadn't made up for the earliest years of my life, it was definitely a drastic improvement.

A/N: Now that chapter is over, this is just me reminding you guys for the reviews and suggestions for any improvements I could make to keep coming and to read all the chapters leading up to this one and the other books. Thank you so much for your continued support, and I hope you have a good day whenever and wherever you're reading this!