I knew the pain was unbearable. Every night, the man in the bed next to hers moaned in agony, yet Grandma stayed silent, suppressing her cries so I would not worry.
I cried so much that my eyes throbbed with pain. Rowan tried to comfort me, gently pressing a cold popsicle to my swollen eyelids. His expression was a mix of tenderness and frustration. "Don't dwell on it. It might not be as serious as you think. The test results aren't even out yet."
I struggled to breathe, my voice barely more than a rasp. "Rowan, I'm just glad you're here with me."
As I gazed at my grandmother's pale, frail face, the grief inside me felt like it would tear me in half. I barely slept that night, but as I lay awake, I happened to notice Rowan watching a live stream.
There was a young girl on the screen, sweet-faced and wearing a playful hat, speaking into the camera. "Hello everyone, welcome to Madeline's Treatment Diary."
I noticed a strange look flicker across Rowan's face as he watched her, something unnameable yet stirring. I bit my lip, trying to tell myself it might just be empathy.
However, it did not end there. Over the following days, I saw more posts on his Instagram showing this Madeline Cross.