Jennie

Lisa and I are both exhausted as we walk into the kitchen early in the morning. As if in sync, we both freeze when we find a full breakfast spread on the kitchen bar.

I look up to find Rosé wringing her hands, a tight smile on her face. "I made you breakfast," she says, her gaze dropping to her feet. "Enjoy," she adds, before moving past me. Her stomach growls before she can make a dash for it, and Lisa stops her in her tracks, her hand on her shoulder.

"You haven't eaten yet?" she asks. Rosé bites down on her lip nervously and shakes her head, her gaze darting towards me.

I sit down in my usual spot and take a sip of the coffee she made me. "Come join us," I say, my voice soft. I'm not even remotely hungry, and all I really want is to get to the hospital as soon as possible, but I know it won't make a difference. We won't be able to see Dad yet.

Rosé looks at me in surprise and hesitates before nodding. She takes a seat and I watch as Lisa reaches for the cupboard above her head, grabbing the mug Dad likes to drink from. She holds it in her hands, a startled expression on her face, before putting it back slowly. My heart twists painfully. Lisa makes Dad a cup of herbal tea most mornings, and not being able to do it today probably devastates her. She inhales deeply as her expression drops, and I rise from my seat. I walk up to her and hug her from behind, my cheek against her shoulder blade.

"He's going to be okay," I murmur. "Before you know it, you'll be making him cups of herbal tea again, and he'll try to scare away the nurses."

Lisa turns around and wraps her arm around me while burying her free hand in my hair. "Yes," she says. "He will."

I smile at her and grab her hand to lead her back to her seat. I've been so lost in my own sadness that I forgot how hard this must be on Lisa too. She and Dad have grown so close over the last couple of years.

Rosé fills up our plates for us as soon as we sit down, and I blink in surprise.

"You both need to eat something," she says hesitantly. "It'll probably be a long day."

I nod in agreement and take a bite of the pancakes she made. It doesn't escape my notice that she's made a combination of foods that I love. I'm surprised she still remembers my likes and dislikes. Even my coffee is made the way I usually have it. I only manage a few bites, too worried to be able to eat.

"You need to eat, Nini," Rosé murmurs, and I frown at her.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask, confused. "Why are you here at all?"

She looks down at her plate, seemingly gathering herself, before she looks back up at me. "I just wanted to be there for both of you. I just thought it might help if I made myself useful somehow. I forgot just how much staff Lisa has."

I bite down on my lip as I take her in. She looks older and insecure in a way she never used to. Her eyes are kinder than they've ever been before, and she seems contrite.

"Jennie, I never had a chance to say this, but I'm so genuinely sorry for everything I've put you through. For every bit of blame, every toxic word, every bond I've broken. Nothing I can say will adequately convey my regret, so I wanted to show you. I'm not doing very well at that, I guess."

I look away. "No, you're not."

I rise from my seat and walk away. I'm not in the mood to reminisce. I purposely left her and that part of my life behind. I have enough on my mind without being burdened by her guilt.

I walk onto the veranda, the cold air biting against my skin. Lisa follows me out and wraps her arms around me from behind. I lean into her, and she presses a kiss to my cheek.

"I called the director of the hospital. We'll be allowed to go see your dad before visiting hours."

I turn around, my eyes wide. "Really?"

Lisa nods and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. I hug her tightly, and she caresses my hair as she holds me.

"I'll go grab my coat," I murmur, and Lisa nods.

Thirty minutes later we're walking into the hospital, both of us scared and anxious. Lisa holds my hand in her, and I clutch onto her tightly.

The director of the hospital, Dr. Davis, meets us at the ICU unit and takes us through the hygiene measures we'll need to take to access my dad's room. "He's stable," he says. "We're still keeping him in an induced coma, but he'll wake later today."

I nod at him, and he hesitates. "I have some news to share with you too, Jennie," he says, a small smile on his face. "We found a donor for your father. All tests have cleared. It's a match."

I freeze, my hand rising to my heart. "A donor?" I whisper, in disbelief. "But is transplantation even possible in Dad's current condition?"

"It's an anonymous living donor, so we don't need to rush into the operation," he says, and I frown.

"What does that even mean? That's not possible, is it?" As far as I'm aware living donors are always family members or friends, and they're never anonymous.

Dr. Davis hesitates and then shakes his head. "It's rare, but it's possible. I'll discuss the procedure with the cardiologist in charge of your father's current condition, as well as the other doctors that will be operating, including the transplant surgeon and the transplant nephrologist. We'll discuss the risks, and if your father is cleared by the team, we'll go ahead with the procedure."

I nod, my heart racing. Dr. Davis waves us off as we walk into Dad's room, and I bite down on my lip in an effort to keep it together. He's hooked up to so many machines, and it all looks horrifying. It makes me feel like I lost him, even though he's still here. I barely recognize him.

I sit down by his bed, tears in my eyes. "Hi, Daddy," I murmur, hoping he can somehow hear me. "They found a donor. You're going to be fine. You're going to get all better. I can't wait to speak to you again later today. I've missed you, Dad, so please wake up soon."

Lisa drops her hand to my shoulder and I look up at her. She looks as distraught as I do. I lean into her as I tell Dad about Lisa almost making him a cup of tea in the morning, not realizing he wasn't there.

Lisa and I sit there with her for hours, awaiting the moment he opens his eyes again. The relief I feel when he finally does is surreal.

"Dad," I whisper.

He blinks, and the medical staff performs countless tests on him, but his eyes are on me, his expression calm and collected.

We're going to be just fine. I'm sure of it.