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29. The Uber rolled to a smooth stop

The Uber rolled to a smooth stop outside the clinic, its engine a faint hum against the quiet of the late morning. Russell, still fast asleep, leaned against the car door, his breathing steady, the gentle rhythm almost mocking Ted’s restless mind. Ted’s thoughts were not steady. They were a whirlwind—an overreaction to some, but to him, they were survival. Every worst-case scenario played out in vivid flashes: the beeping of machines slowing, the clinical voice of a doctor delivering news, Russell’s face crumbling under the weight of it all. Ted’s job, as he saw it, was to absorb the first impact, to shield his brother from the full force of what might come.

Ted glanced at Russell, asleep and blissfully unaware, his mouth slightly ajar. For a moment, Ted envied him. The luxury of ignorance—how fleeting and fragile. Yet even in this quiet, Ted felt the weight of responsibility bearing down on him like the desert heat. The driver looked back, his eyes questioning through the rearview mirror.

“Could you wait a little longer? Just in case,” Ted muttered, pulling his wallet out to extend the fare.

He stepped out of the car, the sun glaring down on him like a silent interrogator. His footsteps quickened as he approached the clinic entrance, every step feeling like a countdown to something he couldn’t name. The sliding doors hissed open, a rush of antiseptic air meeting him like a slap. The ICU was just ahead, the sterile hallway narrowing in his vision.

Ted stopped for a breath, his chest tightening, not from exertion but from the weight of anticipation. He told himself he had to be the first to know, the first to see, the first to absorb the shock so that Russell could be eased into it, drip-fed reality in a way that wouldn’t break him.

The irony wasn’t lost on Ted—how he had always been the one who felt too much, thought too much, yet now he was trying to become the buffer for someone else’s pain. His fingers brushed against the cold handle of the ICU door, his pulse quickening. What’s waiting on the other side?

A nurse walked past, her expression neutral, professional. Ted envied that too—her ability to navigate this space without being consumed by it. He took another breath, steadied himself, and pushed the door open, bracing for whatever awaited him.


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