Together

Hold Me Now And Let It Be

Well, if you guys know my title reference, then I think you'll know the mood of this chapter. Enough said. Please don't kill me, love you all xx comment/vote please!
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February 10, 2026

Harper

I count my footsteps as I walk down the long, tiled hallways of the hospital. It's the only way to keep my thoughts out of my head. Patrick is right beside me, but I don't acknowledge him. I can't bring myself to do so.

I take deep breaths and try to hold myself together. I have no idea what I'm supposed to expect, within the next few minutes.

As we turn the corner into the corridor which holds my dad's room, I see my mum standing outside of the door. "Harper," she says, running up to me.

"How is he?" I ask immediately.

"Alright. The doctors are in there checking a few things, so we can't go in for a few more minutes, but he can't wait to see you."

I muster up the courage to offer a forced smile. "I wish that it wasn't under these circumstances."

"We all do, but it is what it is, hm?"

"I suppose."

"Patrick, how are you?" Mum asks, turning to my husband.

"I'm fine," he replies. "I'm getting back into the routine of everything after Harper and I were away for a week."

"You two had a nice holiday, then?"

"It was great," I tell her.

"I'm glad. You needed an escape from everything, honey."

"I did," I admit. "I didn't know how badly I needed it until it happened."

"What can I say? I'm just the best husband ever," Patrick teases.

"Oh, haughty today, are we?" I retort. "No, just kidding. You are the best husband ever."

"I'm so glad that you two found each other," Mum says. "Even when you first met, it had been so long since I'd seen Harper so happy."

We both blush a little bit, but it really does feel nice to hear that from my mum.

Even when Patrick and I know that we are soul mates, or something like that, if you don't believe in those, it still makes me feel all warm inside when others confirm that we are.

It isn't too much longer before a nurse comes out of my dad's room.

"You can go in now," she says, giving us a sad smile. "Nothing much has changed since yesterday."

"Alright," Mum replies, leading Patrick and I into the small room.

Dad is propped up on his bed, and he offers us what he is able to muster up of a smile. It hurts my heart to seem him like this, all pale and weak, with wires connected to his body and machines beeping steadily in the room. His hair is falling out from all of the chemotherapy treatments that he's been undergoing, and he barely has any of his dark, but turning grey, hair left.

"Hey, love," he tells me. "Hi, Patrick."

"Daddy," I whisper, running over to his bedside. Tears start to well up in my eyes as I grab his hand, and he gives it a squeeze.

"Please, Harper, don't worry about me," he tells me. "I'm fighting as hard as I can, but if I'm not able to fight anymore, and it takes me, please don't worry."

"Daddy, don't talk like that," I tell him.

"Sweetie, I've got to be realistic here. I can't promise you that I'm going to get better, when not a single doctor has told me anything that indicated that. Some think I could possibly live longer than others seem to think, but nobody seems to have a cure. I can't pretend that I'm going to live to be 90."

Hearing those words feels like I'm being stabbed in the gut.

"Alright," is all that I'm able to say.

I notice that my husband and mum are having some sort of conversation in the background, but I'm not sure what it's about. I'm mostly focused on savouring this moment with my father. Though neither of us are speaking any words, our communication is loud and clear, though the way that he is aimlessly running his fingers through my hair and I'm blinking my eyes rapidly to keep the tears from spilling out.

It seems to last forever, and neither Patrick nor my mother want to break the spell which Dad and I are placed under.

Eventually, though, Patrick comes up and places his hands on my shoulders. I turn to look at him, but as soon as we make eye contact, and I see the look of pity in his eyes, I can't handle it anymore.

I stand up and throw myself into his arms, allowing the tears to finally flow, as I bury my face in Patrick's shoulder.

I now know why he was so insistent upon coming today, even when I told him that he didn't have to. He knew that it was going to be like this, and he wanted to be supporting. He knew that this was going to happen, and wanted to be here to hold me when it did.

I love him for that.

Patrick and I stick around with my dad for just over another half hour. Mum explains what they're doing for his treatment.

"And, they're going to try him on a new experimental drug in two weeks, if none of this works," she finishes up. "That's pretty much their last hope."

"Oh," is all that I say. "What sort of reviews is the new drug getting?"

"Very mixed ones. It's helping some people improve, but some are having very bad reactions to it and it's making it even worse."

"But they're still going to put him on it?" I blurt, raising my voice a bit.

"Love, calm down. Like I said, that will be at a point when there is nothing else that they can do. If they don't try him on the experimental drug, then the doctors may just stop his treatment."

"Oh."

"All that we can do is hope for some sort of a miracle, sweetie. Nothing has gotten worse since I spoke to you on the phone the other day, it seems. That's a good sign, at least."

"Mum, what are you going to do without him?" I bite my lip as I feel a knot tying in my stomach. It's such a hard question to ask, and I can tell that she's taken aback by it, but she finds an answer.

"Well, love, I'm not sure. I suppose that I'll cry, and then, wait for it to stop hurting. I'll hope that it does. Maybe it never will. I'll still have you, though, and I'll have so many others to support me. It's nothing that you need to worry about, honey. I'll be alright."

Later, as we are walking out of the hospital, Patrick grabs my hand and squeezes it. "He was able to be here until we were married. He was able to see how happy you were, and that you were in good hands. I think he waited until he made sure that you were safe in the arms of another man."

"Maybe you're right," I say, forcing out a small smile.

"And I'll always be here. I love you, and I'm going to help you with anything that you need. Please, remember, you can always talk to me about anything."

"I know," I tell him. "Thank you."