Dr Cullen's POV

The next morning, I made my way down the quiet hospital corridors, my mind already occupied with the upcoming conversation. Edward walked beside me, hands in his pockets, his expression focused but unreadable. We'd both agreed that today was the day to address Lilla's age - it could either bring Lilla closer to trusting us or push her further into her shell.

"Do you think she'll open up about it?" I asked quietly, not really expecting a definitive answer.

Edward glanced at me briefly before shaking his head. "I'm not sure. But whether or not she tells us her real age, she needs to know that we're not going to back away. That's the key."

We reached Lilla's room and found her sitting up, her gaze distant. Her bunny was cradled in her arms. The stuffed toy's floppy ears draped over her lap, and she fiddled with its fur absentmindedly, her expression hard to read. She looked up as we entered, her eyes clouded with something between suspicion and exhaustion.

"Good morning, Lilla," I said gently, trying to keep my tone as calm and non-threatening as possible.

"Morning," she mumbled, her fingers still twisting the bunny's ears in her lap.

Edward took a seat beside her bed, while I stood at the foot, careful to give her space. We exchanged a glance, and Edward gave me a small nod.

"Lilla, there's something I wanted to talk to you about," Edward began, his voice measured, careful. "Yesterday, you and I had a conversation, and it got me thinking. I believe you might be a little older than we first thought."

Lilla's hands stilled on her toy, but she didn't say anything. Her face remained neutral, almost too still. It was the reaction I'd been afraid of—her withdrawing, locking away her emotions.

"That doesn't change anything about how much we want to help you," I added, stepping in to soften the statement. "We just want to make sure we're treating you the way that's best for you. If you are older, you ethically deserve to have more say in your care."

Lilla's gaze dropped to her lap, her body rigid, but her face gave nothing away.

"Are you going to move me to a different ward now?" she asked, her voice flat. "Now that you think I'm older?"

The question hung in the air for a moment. Edward leaned forward slightly, his tone gentle. "No, we're not moving you anywhere unless that's something you want. You'll stay right here in paediatrics."

Lilla's fingers resumed their twisting, though her eyes remained locked on her lap. "B-but… will Dr. Josh and Dr. Cullen still be my doctors?"

I felt a pang at the uncertainty in her voice. She was trying to stay detached, but her questions betrayed her underlying fear of abandonment. She'd been through so many changes already—losing us now would likely confirm her worst fears.

"I'll still be your doctor," I said firmly, stepping closer. "Nothing changes unless you want it to. Dr. Josh will be here too."

She nodded slowly, though her expression didn't shift.

Edward, always perceptive, picked up on her hesitation. "We're not trying to take anything away from you, Lilla. We just want to give you more choices."

Lilla glanced at him briefly, then back to her lap. "Does that mean I can decide stuff now? Like... can I refuse stuff?"

Her question was pointed, her voice steady but with an edge of defiance. She was testing the limits, pushing to see how much control she really had. I exchanged another glance with Edward, knowing this was a tricky line to walk.

"You have the right to make decisions about your treatment," Edward said carefully, his gaze steady on hers. "But there are some things we might still need to discuss together. We want to make sure you're safe and healthy."

"So... can I leave if I want to?" Lilla's eyes finally lifted, locking onto Edward's, challenging him in a way that was both subtle and intense.

Edward held her gaze without flinching. "You can speak up and refuse certain treatments, and we will listen to what you have to say. But sometimes we might need to override that still, as you're still a minor. Right now, we believe you still need to stay here so we can help you heal. Leaving too soon could be dangerous."

"So nothing changes?" she clarified.

I hesitated. The legalities around age were tricky for adults to get their head around, let alone young patients.

"If you are older, Lilla, then we are more ethically obliged to take into account your wishes and preferences than if you are only 9 years old. But, there are certain situations where we may need to make decisions for you if we feel you are at significant risk."

Lilla's face hardened slightly, the mask of detachment slipping back into place. "I've already told you I don't want any more treatments."

"I know," Edward said softly. "And we're not going to force anything on you unless we really have to. But it's important that your doctors keep you well."

Silence fell over the room. Lilla's shoulders tensed, and for a moment, I thought we'd lost her again, that she was retreating behind those walls we'd worked so hard to break through. Then she spoke, her voice so quiet I had to strain to hear it.

"So… so, if I'm a bit older, will you still act the same? Like, spend time with me still?"

Her words were laced with a quiet vulnerability that struck me to the core. It was the closest she'd come to acknowledging the truth, even if she wasn't ready to tell us everything. She was scared, unsure of what it meant if we saw her differently, if our treatment of her changed.

I crouched down beside her bed, bringing myself to eye level. "Lilla, whether you're nine or fourteen, it doesn't change how much we care about you. It just means we'll listen to you more closely and make sure you have a say in what happens next."

Her gaze flickered between me and Edward, her expression unreadable. She was considering her options, deciding how much she was willing to trust us.

"And... can I say no to things now? Even if you think I should do them?"

Edward nodded gently. "You can always say no. And we'll always listen. But we'll also talk to you about why we're recommending things. It's important that you understand what's happening and why, so you can make the best choices for yourself."

Lilla's eyes drifted to the window, her fingers fidgeting with the blanket again. I could see the internal battle she was waging, caught between the need to protect herself and the faint glimmer of hope that we were offering something different.

After a long silence, she spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to talk about my age anymore."

My heart clenched at the sadness in her tone, but I nodded, respecting her boundary. "That's okay, Lilla. You don't have to. We'll be here whenever you're ready."

Edward stood, giving her one last, gentle smile. "We're not going anywhere, Lilla."

She didn't respond, but her posture relaxed just slightly, the tension in her frame easing by the smallest fraction. It wasn't much, but it was something. A tiny step forward in a situation where every inch of progress mattered.

As Edward and I stepped out of the room, I caught his eye. "Do you think we reached her?"

He considered for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. "We've planted the seed. Now we just have to keep showing her that we mean it."

I nodded.

"She's lost more weight," I said quietly, my voice dropping lower as I prepared myself for the difficult decisions ahead. "We'll likely need to insert the NG tube again soon, but I suspect she'll refuse. It's more difficult territory now with us suspecting she's older."

Edward's expression darkened slightly. "We'll have to tread carefully. If she says no, we need to understand her reasons for refusing and explain why it's necessary. But if it comes down to it, she's still a minor. If it's a life-saving intervention, we'll have to make that call."

I sighed, the weight of that responsibility settling heavily on my shoulders. "It's a fine line," I muttered.

Edward gave me a small nod, his gaze steady. "It always is with kids like Lilla. But we're doing the best we can."

After leaving Lilla's room, I lingered for a moment outside the door, collecting my thoughts. The conversation had gone better than I had feared, but it left me unsettled. There was so much more beneath the surface—so much fear, so much distrust—and while we had made progress, it was slow, and we were running out of time. Lilla's health wasn't improving, and with each passing day, the danger of her deteriorating further became more real.

With a deep breath, I turned back toward her room. We needed to take the next step, no matter how difficult it might be for her. Pushing the door open gently, I found her still sitting up in bed, clutching her bunny as if it were a lifeline. Her eyes flicked toward me, guarded, but there was a hint of curiosity beneath the defensiveness.

"Lilla," I said softly, stepping closer but keeping my movements slow and measured, "I want to take you to check your weight. We haven't done that in a couple of days, and it's important we see how you're doing."

She frowned, clearly not enthused by the idea. "Why?" she asked, her voice edged with suspicion. "I already know what you're going to say."

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, but I kept my voice gentle. "Because it's important to know if the food you're eating is helping you maintain or gain weight. It's one of the ways we can tell how well your body is healing."

She didn't look at me, her gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. Her reluctance was palpable, but after a long pause, she sighed and nodded. "Fine," she said quietly, though her tone made it clear she wasn't happy about it.

I stood up and extended my hand to help her out of bed, but she ignored it, slowly pulling herself to the edge on her own. The bunny remained tucked under her arm as if it were coming with her. I didn't push her to let it go—she needed the comfort, and for now, that was fine.

We walked down the hall in silence, the occasional murmur of hospital staff and patients breaking the stillness. Lilla's steps were slow, almost hesitant, like she was bracing herself for whatever news might come. I led her to the small examination room where we kept the scale, gesturing for her to step onto it.

She eyed the scale with distrust, her lips. "Take your sweater off for me, sweetheart," I asked gently. She complied, reluctantly handing it to me. "And Flopsy?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she clutched the bunny tighter. "Flopsy's only little," she muttered.

I sighed inwardly. "I know he is, but I need an accurate measurement. I'll hold onto him for you."

Her lips thinned as she reluctantly handed over the bunny. I made sure to cradle it carefully as I held her clipboard in my other hand. She stepped gingerly onto the cold surface of the scale, her eyes flicking toward the numbers even though she tried to act indifferent.

I watched the display, my heart sinking as the number stabilized. She had lost more weight. Not much, but enough to raise concern. Enough to confirm we were heading in the wrong direction.

I kept my face neutral as she stepped off the scale, reaching for her bunny without hesitation. She was watching me closely, scanning my expression for any sign of bad news.

"What does it say?" she asked, her voice tight with apprehension.

I hesitated for a moment, considering how to frame it. "You've lost a little more weight since the last time we checked," I said, keeping my tone calm and even. "It's not a lot, but it's enough that we need to talk about what comes next."

Lilla's face tightened, her brows drawing together in frustration. "So you're going to put the tube back in," she said flatly, her voice laced with bitterness.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I think the feeding tube would be the best option right now, Lilla," I said gently. "It's a safe and effective way to make sure you're getting the nutrition your body needs. We can't afford to let your weight keep dropping."

Her eyes flashed with anger, and she took a step back. "You didn't even give me a chance."

"Lilla-" I started, but she cut me off before I could continue.

"You just said if I was older, I could make decisions," she said, her voice rising. "But you're not giving me any choices. You're just going to force it on me like you always do."

I patted the exam couch, trying to get Lilla to sit down so I could calm her. She hesitantly sat down, and I pulled up a stool opposite her so I could be at eye level. I didn't want to talk down to her; it was a small way of showing that I wasn't trying to overpower her. "I'm not trying to force anything on you. I'm worried about you. You've lost weight, and that's a serious concern. We need to do something to make sure you're getting enough nutrition."

"You haven't given me enough time!" she snapped, her voice trembling. "You said two days, and it's only been…" She paused, trying to count on her fingers, struggling to do the math. "Forty-someth—no, less."

"We might be just shy of forty-eight hours," I conceded. "But I'm not sure a few more hours will make a difference, Lilla."

"You're not giving me a proper chance!" she almost shouted. Her hands lifted to her eyes, rubbing away the evidence before they could fall down her cheeks. "They've only been giving me hard food, and I prefer soft."

Her outburst took me by surprise, but it also gave me some insight into why she might have been struggling more than we realized. "Why do you prefer soft food?"

"It hurts to chew."

Her teeth were in poor condition—that was something that was quite obvious just by seeing the brown spots on the two front teeth.

"Your teeth?" I clarified.

She nodded.

"Have you seen a dentist before?" I dared to ask.

"What's that?" she asked blankly. I shook my head. "Doesn't matter." I muttered. I'm not sure Lilla could handle having someone put their hands anywhere near her mouth at the moment when she often couldn't even tolerate me touching her cheek.

"I'm sorry it's painful. That's something we should have thought about when ordering your food. I can talk to the dietitian and see if we can get you softer foods – things that are easier for you to eat, and maybe some special shakes to supplement what you need."

"Instead of the tube?" she asked.

"I think the tube is still going to be needed, Lilla. I'm not sure you can increase your calorie intake fast enough."

For a moment, she was quiet, her eyes searching mine. Then she took a deep breath, her voice calmer but still filled with frustration. She turned her attention to the paper on the exam couch and starting clawing at it with her fingers and ripping it into tiny pieces. "So what's the point of all that talk about me being older if you're just going to force things on me anyway? It doesn't matter what I say—you're just going to do what you want."

Her words cut deep, but I understood where they were coming from. To her, it must have felt like we were dangling the promise of control in front of her, only to snatch it away when it suited us. I didn't want her to feel like she was powerless, but at the same time, her health was at risk.

I bowed my head to make eye contact, making sure she could see that I was serious about hearing her out. "I hear what you're saying, Lilla. And you're right—it wouldn't be fair to ask for your input and then ignore it. But I also have a responsibility to make sure you're safe, even if that means making hard decisions."

She crossed her arms over her chest, her bunny still tucked under her arm. "Then what's the point of talking to me about it if you're just going to make the decision anyway?"

"Because your input matters," I said firmly. "I want to hear what you think, and I want to find a solution that works for both of us. I'm not trying to take away your control—I'm trying to work with you to keep you healthy."

Lilla bit her lip, clearly unconvinced. "You're just going to put the tube in if I don't do what you want," she said flatly. I felt like we were going round in circles.

"I don't want to," I said honestly. "I'd rather we come up with a plan that works for you. But if your weight keeps dropping and you're not getting the nutrition you need, we might have to consider it."

Lilla was silent for a long moment, her expression hard to read. Finally, she looked up at me, her eyes filled with a mix of defiance and desperation. "What if you gave me more time?" she asked. "What if you gave me a few more days to try and gain weight on my own? With the softer food and the shakes. But I don't want the tube, not yet."

It was a compromise—one that gave her some control while still addressing the immediate concern of her weight loss. I could see in her eyes that this was her way of trying to take back some agency, to prove that she could make progress on her own terms.

I considered her proposal for a moment, weighing the risks and benefits. "Three days," I said finally. "We'll give you three days to start gaining weight. During that time, we'll make sure you have access to foods that are easier for you to eat, and we'll keep a close eye on your progress. If there's no improvement, we'll need to discuss the tube again."

Lilla nodded slowly, her expression one of cautious relief.

As we headed back to her room, I could see a faint glimmer of hope in her eyes. It wasn't much, but it was there—a tiny spark that suggested she might be willing to try, to believe that we could find a solution that worked for her.

I knew the next few days would be critical. We needed to help Lilla regain some trust, offer her the support she needed, and monitor her weight closely. But for now, we had a plan, and that was something.

Lilla sat at the small round table in her room, her delicate frame hunched over as she stared at the plate in front of her. The hospital-issued breakfast—scrambled eggs, toast, and a small cup of yogurt—remained mostly untouched. She had been picking at the food for nearly half an hour now, pushing pieces around the plate rather than eating them. Every now and then, she'd nibble at the corner of a piece of toast before setting it back down.

I watched her from the doorway, careful not to let my presence feel like a looming pressure. I knew she felt watched, judged even, but it wasn't my intention to make her feel that way. I simply couldn't help but observe—her every movement, every hesitation spoke volumes. Lilla was trying, that much was clear, but she was struggling.

Edward stood a few steps behind me, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His expression was tight, and I could tell he was listening carefully to her thoughts. After several moments of silence between us, he exhaled softly.

"She's in a lot of pain," Edward whispered, his voice barely audible. "Her stomach hurts, and she's feeling nauseous. Every time she thinks about taking another bite, the pain flares up."

I nodded, already suspecting as much. Lilla had always been quiet about her pain, rarely voicing discomfort unless it became unbearable. She was determined to avoid the feeding tube, that much I knew, but she was making herself suffer in the process.

"And the water?" I asked, glancing at the nearly empty glass next to her plate. She had already downed at least two full glasses since the meal had started.

Edward's eyes flickered with frustration, not at Lilla but at the situation. "She's drinking a lot because she thinks it'll help her gain weight. That's at least her thirteenth glass today. The nurses have stopped refilling her jug, but caught her sneaking out to refill it herself."

I shook my head. There was no medical explanation for Lilla feeling that level of thirst.

"But why, Edward?"

"She believes the water will make the number on the scale go up so she can avoid disappointing you. She's scared about the tube too – the sensation of it made her feel panicked and that she couldn't breathe."

I felt a pang in my chest. Disappointing me? Lilla had no idea how far from disappointment my feelings were—how much I worried for her, not because of any failure on her part, but because I could see her fighting a battle she wasn't equipped to handle on her own. I took a deep breath, steadying myself before I approached her.

"Lilla," I said softly, stepping into the room. Her head snapped up, startled by my voice. She quickly dropped her fork and reached for the glass of water, taking another long sip as if she could distract me from what was happening in front of her.

"Hey," she muttered, her voice tight. "I'm eating."

"I see that," I said gently, sitting down across from her. I kept my tone neutral, calm. The last thing I wanted was to make her feel cornered. "You've done well getting started, but I noticed you've been drinking a lot of water. How are you feeling?"

She shrugged, avoiding my gaze. "Fine."

Edward shot me a glance that said otherwise.

I leaned forward slightly, keeping my eyes on her face, trying to convey nothing but concern. "Dr Masen told me that you've been feeling some pain. Is that true?"

She tensed, her fingers wrapping around the glass, holding it like a lifeline. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at the table, refusing to meet my eyes. After a long pause, she nodded reluctantly.

"Is there a reason you haven't been talking to me about it?" I asked.

Her shoulders rose and fell in a helpless shrug. "I just… I don't want to make it a big deal. It's fine."

"It's not fine," I said gently but firmly. "Your body's telling you something. Pain is a sign that something's wrong, and we need to figure out how to help you feel better."

She squirmed in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. "I'm trying really hard to gain weight." she mumbled. "I don't want the tube."

I reached out and placed my hand gently on hers. "I know you're trying really hard. But drinking too much water isn't the answer, Lilla. It won't help you gain weight. In fact, it could actually hurt you."

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide. "What do you mean?"

I kept my voice steady, even though I could see the worry building behind her gaze. "Drinking too much water can be dangerous, especially when you're not eating enough food. It can mess with the balance of sodium in your blood, which can lead to something called water intoxication. It can make you feel even sicker, cause confusion, and in severe cases, it can even be life-threatening."

Her brow furrowed, and I could see the wheels turning in her mind as she processed what I was saying. "I thought if I drank more, it would make the scale go up, and then you wouldn't… you wouldn't be mad."

I felt my heart ache at her words. "Lilla, I'm not mad at you. Not at all. You've been so brave through all of this, but drinking water won't make you gain weight in the way you need. We need to focus on getting you proper nutrition, not just fluids."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them back furiously, not wanting to cry in front of me. "But I don't want the tube," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I don't want you to be disappointed."

I shook my head gently, saddened by how much pressure she was putting on herself. "Lilla, I could never be disappointed in you. You're fighting so hard, and I see that. But you have to understand that this isn't about failure or success—it's about your health. I want to help you, but you need to let me. And that means we have to make sure you're not drinking too much water, okay?"

She didn't respond, her eyes fixed on the table as she wiped at her face with the sleeve of her oversized sweater. I could see her mind racing, trying to balance her fears with what I was telling her.

"We're going to have to restrict your fluid intake a bit," I continued gently. "Not because we're punishing you, but because we need to keep you safe. We'll make sure you're getting enough to drink, but we have to be careful about how much. And I'd like to do a blood test to make sure your sodium levels are okay. Can you do that for me?"

She nodded, barely perceptible, and I knew she was trying her best to hold herself together. I could see how hard it was for her to accept the situation. Every step felt like another blow to her sense of control, and I hated that it had to be this way.

"I'll do a quick blood test and check your vitals," I said softly. "And then tomorrow, I think we should check your weight again, okay?"

Lilla's face tightened, but she nodded again, more out of resignation than agreement.

As I left the room to get the equipment, I couldn't shake the heaviness in my chest. I wanted to protect her, to make everything easier for her, but this wasn't something I could fix with a few comforting words. Her journey was going to be long and difficult, and all I could do was walk beside her and guide her the best I could.