Lilla's POV

It was hard to explain, but everything was changing around me, and I didn't know if I liked it. The hospital had been my home for as long as I could remember. It smelled funny and was always noisy, but it was safe. Dr. Cullen and Dr. Josh knew everything about me—the way my chest sometimes felt tight like a balloon ready to pop, or how my tummy always got queasy after I ate too fast. They always came when I pressed the call bell. Always.

But lately, something felt different.

Dr. Cullen didn't come as quickly as before when I pressed the bell. Sometimes it was Henry who showed up instead. He'd knock on the door like he didn't quite belong and peek in with his big smile and say, "Everything okay, Lil?" like he hadn't just raced down the hall. And when my tummy hurt or my breathing got funny, it wasn't always Dr. Josh who sat with me until it felt better. Sometimes, it was Henry.

Henry wasn't bad at it—actually, he was kind of good. He never seemed scared, even when I couldn't catch my breath and had tears running down my cheeks. He'd just sit beside me, holding my hand, saying things like, "In through the nose, out through the mouth. Nice and slow. Like blowing out birthday candles."

It helped, I guess.

But it wasn't the same.

And then there was Claire. She didn't do as much of the care stuff—Henry was the one who checked my oxygen or gave me my meds—but she was always around, writing in her notebook or asking a million questions about my favourite books and movies. She'd even drawn a sketch of me sitting in the hospital gardens. I liked it and it made me feel like she had been thinking about me enough to want to draw me.

It was nice having them here, but also weird.

I didn't really understand why they were coming every day. Henry said it was because they were "getting ready," but he didn't explain what they were getting ready for. Dr. Cullen said it was because I was going to live with them soon, which made me feel all twisty inside. I didn't know what "soon" meant, but I didn't like the sound of it.

That morning, I woke up with a tummy ache. It wasn't too bad, just a little crampy, but I pressed the call bell anyway because that's what I always did. Dr. Cullen would usually come and rub my belly and give me some medicine or sit and talk to me. After a few minutes, the door opened, but it wasn't Dr. Cullen or Dr. Josh who came in. It was Henry.

"Hey, kiddo," he said, sitting on the edge of my bed. "What's going on?"

"My tummy hurts," I mumbled, pulling the blanket over my head.

He didn't say anything at first, and I peeked out to see him looking at the monitor beside my bed. "Your numbers look okay. Maybe we should try a warm drink or a hug instead of medicine this time. What do you think?"

I frowned. "Where's Dr. Josh?"

"Dr. Josh is on another floor today," Henry said. "But don't worry, I've got this. Dr. Josh and Dr. Cullen have been training me, remember?"

It wasn't the answer I wanted. Dr. Josh would've already had my medicine ready, not just offered me "a warm drink or a hug" like that was going to fix anything.

But before I could argue, Claire poked her head in the room. "Everything okay in here?" she asked.

"Lilla's tummy is feeling a little off," Henry said, glancing at me.

Claire walked over to my bed and crouched down so she was eye level with me. "I hate tummy aches," she said. "Want me to read you a story while Henry works his magic?"

I shrugged, not really wanting a story but also not wanting to say no. Claire grabbed the book we'd been reading together, Matilda, and started from where we left off.

By the time my tummy stopped hurting, Dr. Cullen had come in to do my usual check-up. He smiled at Henry as he stepped back to let him work.

"How's it going in here?" he asked.

"Henry didn't give me any medicine," I said, crossing my arms.

Dr. Cullen raised an eyebrow at Henry, who just smiled.

"She didn't need it," he said. "We did some breathing exercises and a bit of distraction. Worked like a charm."

Dr. Cullen looked at me. "How do you feel now?" He asked, as he gently lifted my pyjama top up and began rubbing my tummy like he always did when I said it hurt. It felt soothing and made me feel close to him.

"Better," I admitted, though I wasn't sure I liked that Henry's way had worked.

Dr. Cullen nodded, scribbling something on her clipboard. "Henry's going to be doing a lot more of your care, Lilla. He's been doing a great job, and it's important for you to get used to him and Claire taking care of you."

I didn't know what to say to that.

Later that afternoon, Dr. Cullen and Dr. Josh sat down with me, Henry, and Claire to talk about something new - spending the night at Henry and Claire's house.

When Dr. Cullen said it, my heart started pounding. "What do you mean, 'spend the night'?" I asked, gripping the edge of my blanket.

"It's just a trial run," Dr. Cullen said gently. "To help you get comfortable with the idea of being at their house. You'd come back to the hospital the next day."

I didn't like the sound of that at all.

"What if I don't want to?" I asked, my voice shaking.

Henry leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "It's okay to feel nervous, Lilla," he said. "We're not going to make you do anything you're not ready for. But it's just one night, and we'll make sure you have everything you need. You'd even get to pick what we have for dinner."

I shook my head. "What if you don't bring me back? You might forget to."

Claire looked like I'd just punched her in the stomach. "Lilla," she said softly, "we would never forget to. I promise."

That sounded a little better, but I still didn't like it.

"Why can't I just stay here?" I asked, looking at Dr. Cullen.

Dr. Cullen knelt beside my bed, her expression kind but firm. "Because, sweetheart, the hospital isn't meant to be your home forever. Henry and Claire want to take you home with them so they can take care of you and give you a real family."

"I already have a family," I muttered, even though I wasn't sure that was true.

"I know it feels scary," Dr. Cullen said, "but we'll all be here to help you. And you'll always be able to visit us."

The next few days were strange. Everyone kept talking about "the overnight" like it was this big, exciting thing, but it just made me feel sick and my tummy hurt.

Henry and Claire tried to make it sound fun. They told me about their house, with its big backyard and the cozy room they'd set up for me with fairy lights and a bookshelf full of stories. Claire even promised to make chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast.

But none of it felt real.

What if their house smelled weird? What if their neighbors were loud? What if Henry and Claire didn't hear me if I needed them in the middle of the night?

I didn't say any of that, though. Instead, I asked Dr. Cullen a million questions. Could I bring my books? Would I have to eat vegetables at dinner?

Dr. Cullen answered every question patiently, but I could tell he wanted me to start asking Henry and Claire instead.

When the day of the overnight finally came, I refused to pack my bag.

"I'm not going," I said, crossing my arms.

Henry crouched down beside me, his voice calm and steady. "What if we make a deal?" he said. "You don't have to stay the whole night if you don't want to. We'll bring you back to the hospital anytime you say. Deal?"

I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth. Finally, I nodded.

That night, as we drove to Henry and Claire's house, I clutched my blanket tightly and stared out the window. The world outside the hospital felt big and unfamiliar.

Henry drove and Claire chatted to me from the backseat, pointing out things I could see out the window: a dog with floppy ears, a bakery with a big sign that read *Cinnamon Rolls Today!, and some kids playing with a soccer ball in a park. I nodded when she talked, but I didn't really answer. My tummy was already starting to hurt, and I didn't want to make it worse.

When we pulled into their driveway, my stomach did a nervous flip. Their house looked cozy, with a little porch and twinkling lights in the windows.

Claire opened the door, smiling at me. "Welcome home, Lilla," she said softly.

Home. The word felt strange, but for the first time, I thought maybe it wasn't such a bad idea.

I slid out of the car, holding onto my blanket like a shield. Inside, the house smelled different, like coffee and cinnamon and something flowery I couldn't quite place. Everything was cozy and quiet, with soft rugs on the floors and bookshelves everywhere. Claire gave me a quick tour, pointing out the kitchen, the living room with its squishy couch, and my room for the night.

"This is your space," she said, opening the door.

The room was small but nice, with a bed covered in a pink and white quilt and little fairy lights strung up around the window. There was a bookshelf with books on it—real books, not just picture ones—and a big stuffed giraffe sitting in the corner. I put my blanket on the bed and looked around, not sure what to say.

I didn't eat much at dinner. I didn't want to. It wasn't that I didn't like the food—it was fine, chicken and potatoes and peas—but my tummy still felt tight, and I didn't like eating in new places. Henry didn't say much about it, but I could see Claire watching me out of the corner of her eye. She always worried when I didn't eat.

After dinner, I found a big chair outside on their patio. It looked like a giant egg and had cushions inside. I climbed into it and started rocking gently. It felt nice to be outside where it was quiet, just me and the wind and the stars.

I stayed out there for a long time. Claire came out once to check on me, bringing a blanket in case I got cold. "You doing okay?" she asked, draping the blanket over my lap.

I nodded without looking at her.

"Alright," she said softly. "We'll be inside if you need anything."

She didn't try to make me come in or ask too many questions. That was good.

When it was time for bed, things got harder. Henry did my checks, and it felt weird and wrong, and I wanted Dr. Cullen back. I tried to wriggle my way out of it, telling Henry that Dr. Cullen checked me before I left and trying to distract him by asking who painted the various pieces of artwork. He called me out on it, saying I was "an expert in avoidance," and went all serious on me like Dr. Cullen does sometimes. I didn't like that, but it also made me feel safe, like he wasn't going to let me sleep without knowing I was healthy and okay.

In the middle of the night, my tummy started to hurt again. It wasn't a bad pain, just that twisty, crampy feeling I got sometimes when I was nervous. I climbed out of bed and padded down the hall to the bathroom.

I turned around and almost bumped into Claire. She was wearing pajamas and holding a glass of water.

"Hey, sweetie," she whispered. "What's going on? Can't sleep?"

"My tummy hurts," I said, feeling a lump rise in my throat.

Claire crouched down so we were eye-level. "Let's get you some water," she said gently. "Come on."

I followed her downstairs to the kitchen, where she poured me a glass of water and sat with me at the table.

"Does it hurt a lot, or just a little?" she asked.

"Just a little," I said.

"Sometimes water helps," she said. "Do you want to try?"

I nodded and took a few sips. It didn't really help, but it was nice to have someone sitting with me.

"Dr. Cullen usually rubs my tummy." I mumbled.

"Do you want me to rub your tummy?" Claire asked hesitantly.

I thought about it for a second, then nodded.

She reached over and started rubbing slow circles on my stomach, but it didn't feel quite right.

"You're not doing it properly," I said. Dr. Cullen didn't rub circles – he pushed his hand into the different parts of my tummy and told me to take deep breaths.

She blinked, looking confused. "What do you mean?"

"Dr. Cullen does it different," I said, putting my hand over hers to guide her. "Like this."

Claire followed my lead, but it still didn't feel the same.

"You're not as good as Dr. Cullen," I said without thinking.

Claire laughed softly. "Well, Dr. Cullen's had a lot more practice."

We sat like that for a while, her hand resting lightly on my stomach.

"Do you think Dr. Cullen will miss me?" I asked suddenly.

Claire looked at me, her face soft and serious. "Of course he will," she said. "But he also knows you're going to be with people who love you and can take care of you."

I didn't say anything.

"You know," Claire said after a moment, "when I first met Henry, I didn't think I liked him very much."

That surprised me. "Why not?"

"He was so serious all the time," she said, smiling a little. "But then I got to know him better, and I realized he's not really serious—he's just careful. He thinks about everything before he does it because he wants to get it right."

I thought about that, and it made sense. Henry was serious and it sometimes meant I felt like he wasn't really interested in me in the same way Claire was.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" I asked, changing the subject.

"I have two brothers," Claire said. "One older and one younger."

"What are they like?"

She told me about her brothers—how her older brother was a teacher and her younger brother loved to travel. She talked about growing up with them and how they used to play hide-and-seek in their backyard.

I liked listening to her stories. Her voice was soft and calm, and it made the twisty feeling in my tummy go away, at least for a little while.

When we finally went back upstairs, Claire tucked me into bed and sat with me until I fell asleep. I didn't feel completely at home in their house yet, but I thought maybe, just maybe, it wasn't such a bad place after all.

I woke up again, even though I didn't want to. The clock on the nightstand said it was 2:37 a.m. The house was quiet—so quiet I could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator from downstairs. I stared at the ceiling for a while, willing myself to go back to sleep, but my mind was too busy. I kept thinking about the house, about Claire and Henry, about all the things I didn't know about them yet.

I slid out of bed, taking my blanket with me. If I couldn't sleep, maybe I could explore a little. It wasn't snooping—not really. I just wanted to know more about the people who were supposed to be my family.

The stairs creaked a little as I made my way down, but no one stirred. The living room was cozy in the dark, with a soft glow coming from a lamp they'd left on in the corner. I sat on the couch for a moment, looking around. Their house wasn't like the hospital at all. It felt lived-in, with books and pillows and pictures everywhere.

There was a stack of photo albums on one of the shelves. I pulled the top one down and opened it on my lap.

The first page was labeled Claire—High School, written in swirly handwriting. There were pictures of Claire in a cheerleading uniform, holding pom-poms and smiling at the camera. She looked so different—her hair was longer, and she had metal and wires on her teeth in some of the pictures. There was one of her standing on top of a cheer pyramid, her arms stretched out wide.

She looked so happy. I couldn't imagine her ever being sad or scared like I was sometimes.

The next few pages were more of the same: football games, school dances, a picture of her in a sparkly blue dress with a boy in a tuxedo standing next to her. I traced the edges of the photo with my finger, wondering if the boy was Henry. But then I turned the page and found a picture of Henry.

He looked different, too. His hair was shorter, and he wasn't wearing glasses like he does now. He was in a football uniform, holding a helmet under one arm and grinning at the camera. The caption underneath said Henry—Junior Year—MVP. I didn't know what MVP meant, but it sounded important.

There were more pictures of him, too—one where he was giving a speech in a cap and gown, with the word Valedictorian written underneath. I didn't know what that meant either, but it sounded fancy. He looked proud, standing on a stage with a microphone.

Claire had a graduation picture too, with the words Cum Laude next to her name. I whispered the words out loud, trying to figure out what they meant.

After I finished the photo albums, I started looking at the bookshelves. Most of the books were about history or something called dentistry. I didn't know what dentistry was, so I pulled one of the books down to look- Essentials in Oral and Maxillofacial Surgery.

The first few pages had diagrams of teeth—big, close-up pictures that made me squirm a little. Then I turned the page and saw a picture of a hole in someone's gum with a needle and thread going through it. I slammed the book shut so fast it made a loud thump.

My heart was pounding. I told myself it was probably just a different version of dentistry. Henry wouldn't do something like that, not with needles. He was nice.

I put the book back and tried another one, but it had more pictures of metal tools and teeth and needles. I shoved it onto the shelf and decided to stop looking at the dentistry books. They made me feel sick, and I couldn't understand why anyone would let someone touch their mouth like that.

There was a desk in the corner with two bags sitting on top of it. One of them was Claire's—it was small and leather and had a little charm hanging from the zipper. The other one was Henry's, a big black bag that looked more like something a doctor would carry.

I opened Claire's first, peeking inside. It smelled like mint and flowers. There was a notebook, a pink pen, and a little pouch with makeup in it. I opened the notebook and found lists of things written in neat, small handwriting: groceries, reminders, and something about Lilla's care plan.

I found her work ID. It had her picture on it, and the words "Assistant Headteacher" written underneath. I stared at it for a long time. I wasn't exactly sure what an assistant headteacher did, but it sounded important. Like she was high up in a school, almost in charge. I hadn't been to school in a long time—not since I was really little. I liked school when I went. It was quiet, and the teachers were nice to me there. They didn't yell or get mad for no reason, and it felt like a good escape from home.

I wondered what kind of teacher Claire would be. Would she be one of the strict ones who makes kids sit up straight and gives loads of homework? Or would she be the kind who smiles a lot and gives stickers when you do something good?

Digging deeper into her bag, I found a sketchbook and a case full of pencils and pens. I flipped through the sketchbook, careful not to smudge the pages.

The drawings were beautiful—flowers, trees, animals, and even a few people. The lines were so smooth and detailed, like she'd been doing it for years. I wondered why she didn't have any of her art on the walls. If I could draw like that, I'd put my pictures everywhere. Maybe she didn't think they were good enough, even though they clearly were. I closed the sketchbook and put it back, careful to keep everything the way I'd found it.

As I explored more, I found little things here and there that told me more about Claire and Henry. There was a book tucked into Claire's bag about leadership in education, which sounded boring to me, but maybe it wasn't to her.

Everything they had seemed so... grown-up. Organized. Like they had their lives completely together.

I moved onto Henry's bag. Inside, I found a small, sturdy black case. It looked fancy, with a shiny logo on the top. I opened it carefully, and inside were these weird glasses with little magnifying lenses attached to them. I picked them up, turning them over in my hands.

"What are these?" I whispered to myself.

I slipped them on, and the whole world shifted. Everything was huge. The threads on the couch looked like ropes, and the lines on my hands were so clear I could see every tiny crease.

For a moment, I thought, maybe Henry's actually blind, and these are special glasses that help him see. It made sense—sort of. Why else would someone need glasses that made things this big?

I took them off quickly, worried I might break them. They felt expensive, and the case looked like the kind of thing you'd only get if you were really careful about your stuff. I put them back exactly how I found them, making sure the case was closed tight before I slid it back into the bag.

I pulled out a piece of paper that had notes scribbled all over it – random letters and numbers like UL6 RCT, but there was a list that wasn't about work at all.

- Pick up more books for Lilla

- Ask Dr. Cullen about nebulizer settings

- Check with dietitian re. Lilla meal plan

I stared at the list for a long time.

The last thing I found was a picture tucked into one of the pockets of his bag. It was of Henry and Claire, standing together on a beach. They looked younger, maybe in college. Claire had her arms wrapped around Henry, and they were both laughing at something out of the frame.

I traced the edges of the photo, thinking about how different they looked now. But they still seemed happy, even in the new pictures on their walls.

By the time I finished going through everything, the clock in the living room said it was almost 4 a.m. My eyes were heavy, but my brain was still buzzing.

I climbed back into bed and pulled my blanket around me, thinking about all the things I'd seen. Claire and Henry weren't like me—they'd done big, important things, gone to dances, given speeches, worn uniforms. They seemed like the kind of people who were always brave and always knew what to do.

But they'd also put my name in their lists. They had pictures of each other laughing. And Claire had rubbed my tummy earlier, even though she wasn't as good at it as Dr. Cullen. Maybe they weren't so different after all.

The next morning, we went back to the hospital. Dr. Cullen was waiting for us in my room, smiling as we walked in.

"How was your night, Lilla?" he asked.

"It was okay," I said, sitting back down on my bed.

Henry and Claire filled him in on how I'd been—how I didn't eat much and complained of tummy pain a lot. Dr. Cullen nodded, listening carefully.

"Do you mind if I feel your tummy?" he asked me.

I shook my head, and he came over, gently pressing his hands against my stomach like he always did. I turned to Claire and said, "This is how you're properly meant to rub my tummy."

Claire and Henry exchanged glances and started laughing.

"What's so funny?" I asked, frowning.

Claire smiled. "Oh, Lilla. We've learned a lot about tummy rubs recently."

Henry chuckled too. "She's been requesting 'belly rubs' like the ones you do, Dr. Cullen. Claire only realised last night that she actually meant your examinations." Henry said with a smirk which made me feel upset and confused.

Claire turned towards me. "Dr. Cullen's not rubbing your tummy, sweetheart. He's examining it- checking where it hurts, and whether there's anything physically wrong."

"But it feels nice," I said, confused. "Like a belly rub."

Dr. Cullen smiled. "I'm glad it feels nice, but yes, it is an examination. Just part of checking you're recovering okay and everything inside feels the way it should."

I felt a little betrayed, like I was just a patient to him. "So it's not to make me feel better?" I asked, pulling down my shirt and pushing his hands away.

"It's both, Lilla. I'm looking after your health, and making you feel cared for. Those things go hand in hand."

I didn't know what to say. It felt like a trick – that all the times I thought he was going out of his way to comfort me were really just some doctor thing – just part of his job.

Dr. Cullen must have noticed because he said gently, "It's okay to feel sad or confused, Lilla. But regardless of how I help you, it's because I care about you."

That helped a little, but I still felt funny inside.

He tried to change the topic, asking what I thought about Claire and Henry's house.

I thought about it for a moment. "I liked Max the dog," I said.

Claire smiled. "He seemed to like you too."

"And you have funny-shaped ornaments," I added. "In the living room. They look like… I don't know. Pebbles?"

"Oh, the sculptures," Henry said. "Those were a gift from a friend. Do you like them?"

I shrugged. "They're okay. Kind of weird."

Everyone laughed softly, and for a moment, I felt a little better. But then I remembered something else, and the nervous feeling came back.

"I found some books on a shelf," I said quietly. "Books about teeth and surgery. They were scary… the pictures had needles and blood and stuff."

Henry hesitated, glancing at Claire. "Those are some of my old books. I used to work in maxillofacial surgery—fixing jaws and mouths and things like that. But now I'm just a general dentist. I don't do that kind of work anymore."

I swallowed hard.

"Do you have scary tools and needles?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Not scary," Henry said gently. "I have tools to help people's teeth feel better."

"Do you keep the tools and needles in the house?" I asked. He looked to Dr. Cullen, as if worried about how to reply.

"No, not in the house, Lilla. Just in my clinic. A bit like how Dr. Cullen would keep his surgical tools at the hospital."

I frowned. "You're not going to touch my mouth, are you?"

Henry shook his head. "No, Lilla. Not unless you need me to, and only if you're okay with it."

I looked at Dr. Cullen for reassurance. "He's not going to, right?"

Dr. Cullen crouched down so we were eye-level. "No one's going to touch your mouth without your permission, Lilla. You're in charge of that."

I nodded, but I still felt nervous.

Dr. Cullen turned to Henry. "It might be a good idea to find an age-appropriate storybook about dentists," he suggested quietly. "Something that explains what they do in a way that isn't scary."

Henry nodded. "That's a good idea."

I didn't like the term 'age-appropriate'. It made me feel like I was a little kid and they didn't think I was capable of understanding stuff.

I crossed my arms, feeling a twist in my chest that wasn't quite anger, but wasn't nothing, either. "I'm not a baby." I muttered.

Dr. Cullen's eyes softened and he smiled a little. "I know you're not, Lilla. That's why I think a book could help – because you're old enough to deserve information on these things, and because reading about things can make them less scary sometimes. It's a way to learn without feeling overwhelmed."

I stared at him for a moment, trying to decide if I believed him. Dr. Cullen always had a way of making things sound better than they really were.

"Okay." I said finally, but I still didn't feel convinced. Henry smiled at me, but it wasn't one of his big toothy smiles – it was small and careful, like he was trying not to spook me.

Dr. Cullen stood up and gave Henry and Claire a look I didn't quite understand. It was one of those grown up looks, like they were talking without using words. Henry just nodded and Dr. Cullen turned towards me.

"You must be exhausted Lilla, it's been a big couple of days for you. Lets leave you to rest for a bit whilst I catch up with Claire and Henry."

I didn't like the idea of them talking behind my back but I knew I didn't have much say in it, so just nodded. Claire tucked me back into bed and Henry gave me a little wave as he left. I waved back, honestly slightly grateful for the space. My chest still felt tight, and my tummy was doing little flips, but at least the questions were over.