Chapter 11 — A little girl, a thread of sugar

"He didn’t forge to kill he forged to carry his truth to the heart of the sky."

The evening light was slowly falling over Elidora.

A soft dusk, the color of apricot, slid along the hospital windows. The hallways whispered with footsteps, with sighs, with machines beeping at irregular intervals, like tired hearts Dana Noctielle was just leaving a simulation room a clinical ethics class, that day she had spoken of impossible choices, of the fine line between persistence and hope and then, the pager buzzed sugar code room 14 critical level Dana didn’t think she ran but not like a goddess Like a human the automatic door opened with a quick breath the atmosphere was tense, saturated with restrained adrenaline two nurses were moving around a bed that was far too small an IV was dripping, drop by drop, into a tiny arm the little girl was barely seven, Pale skin. subtle trembling , half-closed eyes, as if the world was too bright for her.

 “Blood sugar at 0.42,” said one nurse. “severe hypoglycemia she was unconscious when she arrived she’s beginning to respond.”

Dana stepped forward slowly her movements were measured, her voice… low. not to be discreet but to give the child space to exist, even on the edge of the void.

“Hello, little star… I’m Dana. we’re going to help you very gently, okay?”

The child cracked an eye open.

“...I’m cold.”

Dana adjusted the blanket around her, pulling the edges up to her chin she placed her fingers on the girl’s forehead, as if to push back the winter that had invaded her.

“Your sugar dropped very low. But we’re here now. You’re a fighter. we’re going to climb back up, little by little promise.”

Footsteps rushed in voices in the corridor the doors burst open the mother’s face was destroyed, eyes swollen from crying the father, pale, trembled as if he’d run the whole way without breathing.

“We… we followed all the instructions,” the mother stammered. “She was eating well she took her doses we did everything…”

Dana invited them to sit, with a calm gesture she handed them a tissue no pity just… presence.

“You did everything right. This kind of crisis happens. Even when everything is done perfectly. It’s not your fault.”

“But she almost… she almost…”

“She almost got scared but she didn’t stop you reacted quickly, and she was cared for in time her brain is intact her functions are already returning.”

She placed her hand on the mother’s, resting on her own knee.

“You are good parents. And she… is an incredibly strong little girl.”

Two hours passed the room was now quiet, lulled only by the reassuring beeps of the machines the little girl was awake she was slowly sucking on a strawberry candy, gifted earlier by one of the aides Dana, sitting on a low stool, watched her silently.

“You know, your body… it’s kind of like a magic car. But it needs the right fuel. And sometimes… it burns a bit too fast.”

The child squinted.

“I’m a magic car?”

Dana smiled.

“Yes. A very rare one and you’ve got a whole garage of friends, doctors, and nurses to help keep you running.”

“Then… you’re my mechanic?”

Dana placed a hand on the bed.

“The best in the galaxy.”

The door opened gently the mother paused on the threshold, breath stolen at the sight of her awake daughter the father… wiped his glasses awkwardly.

“She… she spoke. She smiled…”

Dana stood.

“You’re a miracle of three,” she whispered. “Her, because she held on you, because you ran. And us… because we got there just in time.”

She hugged them no ceremony no mask. a simple, true embrace.

“I want you to know something you are capable. and you are not alone.”

Later, in the break room, the neon light flickered now and then. a comfortable silence a bit of fatigue, a lot of peace the phone buzzed.

Rae: “Where are you? we haven’t seen you since the bubble tea!”

Dana smiled. she replied with a tired, but serene hand.

Dana: “Sorry. I was with a super magic car.”

She put her phone down.

Took off her stethoscope, let it drop on the table.

Then whispered, to no one:

“Sometimes… being human is stronger than everything I wish I could be.”

End of Chapter 11 — A little girl, a thread of sugar.