**Fiona's POV**

I slowly blinked my eyes open, a bright light pouring down from above. The familiar warmth of my mum’s hand enveloped mine, her grip so tight it was both comforting and alarming. In the corner of the room, I caught sight of Dad, his shoulders trembling as he fought back tears.

“Dad?” My voice emerged in a weak whisper, barely breaking through the haze of confusion.

“Fiona?” he responded, turning toward me with a flicker of hope in his eyes. Mum stirred, alerting to my voice.

“My baby, how are you feeling?” she asked, her voice laced with concern as tears shimmered in her eyes.

I felt a lump in my throat, and a tear slipped down my cheek. What could I say when everything felt like a blur?

“Fiona, how are you feeling?” Dad’s voice was quieter now, filled with a sorrow that wrenched at my heart. “I’ll get the doctor,” he said, his resolve returning.

Before I could respond, he rushed out of the room, leaving Mum and me alone in the charged silence. Moments later, the door swung back open, and Dr. Morris stepped in, his expression professional yet warm.

“Hello, Fiona,” he greeted, his voice steady.

“So, what happened to me?” I croaked, each word a struggle.

“You had pulmonary hypertension. The infection has grown resistant to treatment, worsening your symptoms,” he explained, his tone both clinical and compassionate.

“Is there anything we can do?” Hope flickered in my chest, battling the despair that threatened to overwhelm me.

“We can try new treatment plans to see what works,” he responded.

“What kind of treatments?” My curiosity piqued, my heart raced as I braced myself for news.

“Bacteriophage therapy. It uses viruses (phages)to target and kill *Pseudomonas aeruginosa*. It’s very specific and has shown promise even against multi-resistant infections. However, the phages need to match your bacterial strain, and repeat dosing could trigger some immune reactions. What are your thoughts?”

My gut reaction came without hesitation. “Let’s do it.” I didn't even pause to consider my parents' worries.

“I suggest you think it over,” Dr. Morris cautioned, looking at me earnestly.

“Thank you, Doctor,” my parents chorused as he stepped out, leaving us in the fragile stillness.

Mum’s eyes were wide with concern. “Are you really sure that’s the best option?”

“I don’t have many choices left, Mum. You heard him—the bacteria are relentless, and they’re slowly destroying me. We have to try this. If it doesn’t work, we’ll find another way,” I insisted, my voice firmer than I felt.

“Okay. I just want you to be okay,” she replied softly, brushing back a stray hair from my forehead.

Dad chimed in to lighten the mood. “By the way, your friends came by. They promised to visit tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I responded, instantly feeling a pang of dread. I was sure Luca had filled them in, and I could only imagine the questions swirling in their minds, especially Kayla’s. How would I face them? Would they understand the fear that gnawed at me? The uncertainty that loomed large?

Tomorrow would come with its own challenges, but for now, I focused on the flicker of hope the doctor’s words had ignited within me. It was a small flame, but in a world that felt dim, it was enough to hold onto.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, but I hadn't slept a wink. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, spiralling around what I would say when my friends showed up, and grappling with the weight of my new treatment plan.

What if it didn’t work?

I could feel the shadows of despair creeping closer to me, and the thought of them wrapped tightly around my mental health. Yet, death felt like a distant whisper, and I wasn’t ready to listen. I had so much left to experience—driving my own car, graduating from school, venturing into university life, finding a boyfriend, maybe even stepping into marriage one day. All those dreams ignited a flicker of hope within me.

But facing Kayla was a different story. She had opened up to me about her anxiety, so how could I share my own struggles without burdening her more?

Then there was Luca. He stumbled upon my secret one evening during a casual outing. I had been in the middle of my ceftolozane tazobactam injection when he walked in. I tried to dismiss his concern with lies, but he was relentless. Eventually, I opened up, revealing the reality I had been hiding. The shock on his face was palpable, but he quickly became my ally, helping me keep this from the rest of our group. I didn’t want anyone to find out this way.

As the clock ticked closer to their visit, dread bubbled in my chest.

With my parents out for a while, I was left alone with my thoughts. My phone buzzed beside me. It was Taylor.

"Fiona! How are you doing?" Her voice was filled with worry.

"I'm good—"

But before I could finish, her sobs filled the silence.

"How can you say you're good after everything?" she cried, her heart breaking through the phone.

"Taylor, please. I’m okay. There’s a new treatment plan we’re going to try, and I’m hopeful," I tried to sound reassuring, even though I craved comfort myself.

"Really? You promise you'll be okay?" she asked, desperation lacing her words.

"I promise. Just stop crying for me, please," I urged, trying to shift the mood. "Where's Sam? Is she aware I'm in the hospital?"

"She’s not at school today. I don’t know if she knows," Taylor replied.

"How are you really feeling? Be honest," she pressed gently.

"I don’t know. I’m—" A sob caught in my throat, choking my words.

"It's okay, let it out. You’re going to be fine, I promise," she whispered, almost to herself.

We talked for what felt like an eternity, our conversation a lifeline connecting us even through the distance. As we wrapped up, I glanced at the clock. They should be arriving any minute now.

Anxious energy buzzed through my fingertips as I rubbed my cold palms against each other, seeking warmth. Just then, I heard my dad call from downstairs.

"Fiona?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"Aren't you hungry?"

"Yeah, I am," I replied.

"Well, you should’ve said something," he said, bringing me a small plate of fried rice.

"Thanks," I said, gratefully accepting the food. Halfway through my meal, Mum dropped a bombshell that made my appetite vanish.

"Your friends called. They’re on their way."

Panic gripped me.

"You don’t want to see them?" Dad asked, confusion etched on his face.

"I do! But I don’t know how to face them," I confessed.

"It's okay, they’ll understand," he reassured me. I nodded, staring vacantly out the window.

Not long after, the phone chimed again. They were here. My palms were slick with sweat.

Moments later, the door swung open, and one by one, they walked in. But my heart raced until I spotted her, Kayla, entering with her head bowed.

Lila and Ashley rushed to my side. "Are you okay?" they asked, genuine concern etching their features.

I mustered a small smile and nodded. "I’m okay."

Jake walked over, his gaze serious. "Are you sure?"

"I am," I replied, trying to believe it myself.

"Fiona!" Kayla's voice trembled as tears filled her eyes.

"Yes?"

"Are you really okay?" Without waiting for my assurance, she enveloped me in a tight hug, her worry wrapping around us like a protective shield. One by one, the others joined in until we formed our own little fortress of solidarity.

"So, what’s the new treatment plan?" Luca asked, breaking through the emotion.

"Right now? Bacteriophage therapy," I shared, my voice steady.

"Do you think it will work?" Ashley inquired, genuine hope in her eyes.

"I honestly don’t know, but I’m holding on to hope," I admitted.

Kayla sat beside me silently. "Fiona, are you really going to fight this? You’re not going to leave us, are you?"

I took her hand, squeezing it gently. "I’m not going anywhere, Kayla. I promise I’ll fight." I sealed my vow with a pinkie swear, a tangible thread of hope binding us together in that moment.