She’d found out later that his father was in a coma and his mother hadn’t made it through the night.

The news had hit Dom like a punch to the chest, stealing her breath and leaving her mind reeling. The memory of Nile’s quiet, trembling voice as he told her was seared into her thoughts, a sharp contrast to the usually playful tone she was so familiar with. There had been no jokes, no attempts to deflect or soften the blow. Just raw honesty and the pain he couldn’t hide.

When she’d asked him what happened, Nile had hesitated. She could see it in the way he gripped the edge of the hospital chair, his knuckles white, his jaw tight with the effort of keeping himself together. Finally, in a halting voice, he’d told her everything.

“Except for some scratches and abrasions,” he’d said, his voice rough, “Dad seemed totally fine at first. The doctors said they were surprised at how quickly he bounced back. He even joked with me about hospital food being worse than MREs.” A faint, bitter smile had flickered across his face before vanishing like smoke.

Nile’s hand clenched against his knee, his fingers digging into the fabric of his jeans. “I stayed the night with him in his room. Didn’t want to leave him alone. He was sleeping fine, you know? His pulse, his breathing - all normal. And then… in the morning…”

Dom had leaned closer, her heart pounding in anticipation of the words she knew were coming but desperately didn’t want to hear.

“In the morning,” Nile continued, his voice breaking slightly, “I heard it. That sound - the EKG flat-lining. That awful, constant tone.” He let out a shaky breath, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere far beyond the walls of her living room. “I panicked. I hit the button, started yelling for the nurses. They were already running in, but I just -”

Dom reached out instinctively, her hand covering his where it rested on his knee. His fingers twitched beneath hers, but he didn’t pull away.

“The doctors tried everything,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush as if saying them quickly would make them hurt less. “They got his pulse stabilized, but he wouldn’t wake up. They said he had a brain hemorrhage, that it happens sometimes with accidents like that. Something they couldn’t see right away.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and Dom tightened her grip on his hand. The sight of Nile, usually so composed even in the face of chaos, unraveling before her was almost too much to bear.

“And now he’s just… lying there.” Nile’s voice dropped to a whisper, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “He’s alive, but he’s not here. And my mom…” He trailed off, shaking his head as his free hand scrubbed roughly at his face. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

The silence that followed was heavy, pressing against Dom’s chest until it felt hard to breathe. She didn’t know what to say, what words could possibly fill the gaping void of his loss. So she did the only thing she could - she stayed close, letting him know he wasn’t alone.

Nile had tried to keep her away after that. “I don’t want you to have to experience this again, Dom,” he’d told her, his voice firm but his expression pleading. “You’ve already been through enough with your mom. You don’t need to -”

She’d let him talk, but her mind was already made up. Dom knew what it was like to sit by a bedside, to feel the weight of helplessness crushing you as you watched someone you loved slip further and further away. She couldn’t let him face that alone, not when she knew the darkness it could bring. So she went anyway.

The hospital was cold, the sterile smell of antiseptic heavy in the air as Dom stepped quietly into the room. Nile was sitting by his father’s bed, his back hunched and his head bowed as if the weight of everything had finally crushed him. His father lay still, his chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of the ventilator. The sound was both comforting and eerie, a constant reminder of life held precariously in balance.

Dom hesitated in the doorway, her heart aching at the sight of Nile’s bowed shoulders. He hadn’t heard her come in. For a moment, she considered leaving, respecting his wish to grieve alone. But then she saw the way his hand trembled as it rested on the edge of the hospital bed, and she couldn’t stay away.

She crossed the room quietly, her boots barely making a sound on the polished tile floor. Nile glanced up as she approached, his eyes red-rimmed and hollow. “Dom, you shouldn’t -”

“I’m here,” she said softly, cutting him off. “I’m here, Nile.”

Without waiting for permission, she knelt beside him and gently took his hand in hers. His fingers were cold, his grip hesitant at first, but when she didn’t let go, he tightened his hold as if anchoring himself to her. They didn’t speak. There was no need. Instead, they sat in silence, the only sounds the soft beeping of the monitors and the faint hum of the machines keeping his father alive.

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Charlie, who had followed her unnoticed, perched herself on the windowsill. Her golden eyes flicked between Nile and Dom, her tail curling around her paws in a gesture that was both watchful and serene. Peanut, sitting just outside the door, let out a soft whine as if sensing the somber mood within.

Dom squeezed Nile’s hand gently, her thumb brushing against his knuckles in slow, comforting circles. “You’re not alone,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

For a long moment, Nile didn’t respond. Then, slowly, he leaned into her, his head resting against her shoulder. Dom held him as he finally let himself break, his quiet sobs muffled against the warmth of her jacket. She didn’t try to stop his tears. She knew the pain had to come out somehow, and all she could do was be there to catch him when it did.

In the stillness of that room, Dom made a silent promise - to him, to his father, to herself. She wouldn’t let him drown in this. She’d stay by his side for as long as he needed, no matter how hard it got. Because that’s what you did for the people you cared about. You stayed.

As Dom stepped out of the hospital into the cool night air, the weight of the visit lingered on her shoulders like an invisible shroud. The muted glow of the streetlights seemed harsh after the dim, sterile lighting of the hospital, and the faint rustle of leaves in the wind felt too alive, too indifferent to the stillness she had just left behind.

Her chest ached, not just for Nile and his father but for the haunting familiarity of it all. Memories of her own mother’s hospital room clawed their way to the surface, unbidden and unwelcome. The rhythmic beeping of monitors, the soft whoosh of the ventilator, the overwhelming sense of helplessness - it was all too much like the nights she’d spent sitting by her mother’s bedside, clutching her hand and willing the machines to do what her prayers couldn’t.

Dom’s breath hitched as she reached her bike, her fingers gripping the handlebars tightly as if they could ground her against the storm of emotions swirling inside. She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to focus on the cool metal beneath her fingers, the faint hum of the city around her.

It didn’t help. The image of Nile, his face etched with grief as he leaned against her, played over and over in her mind. He’d tried to hold it together, but she’d felt the moment he broke, the weight of his pain pressing into her like a tidal wave. And the worst part was, there was nothing she could do to fix it. She could only sit there and be his anchor, praying it was enough.

When she finally made it home, the house was dark except for the faint glow of a lamp in the living room. Jacque was there, seated in his usual chair with a leatherbound book resting on his lap. He looked up as she entered, his sharp, observant eyes immediately picking up on the tension in her posture and the pallor of her face.

“Late night, ma chérie,” Jacque said softly, his deep voice warm but probing. “Something tells me it wasn’t just a party.”

Dom shrugged off her jacket, the damp fabric clinging to her arms as she hung it on the back of a chair. “It wasn’t. I went to the hospital… with Nile.”

Jacque’s brows furrowed, and he set his book aside, giving her his full attention. “The hospital? Is he alright?”

She hesitated, unsure how to begin. The words felt heavy, tangled, and hard to shape. Finally, she sank into the chair opposite him, her fingers twisting in her lap as she spoke. “His mom didn’t make it. And his dad… he’s in a coma. Nile’s been at the hospital since it happened, sitting by his side. He didn’t want me to go, but I couldn’t just leave him there alone.”

Jacque leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he regarded her with a mix of concern and understanding. “That was brave of you, Dom. It’s not easy to face something like that, especially after everything you’ve been through.”

Dom shook her head, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “It wasn’t brave, Dad. It was… necessary. I couldn’t let him go through that alone. I know what it’s like - sitting there, feeling helpless, watching someone you love slip further and further away. I couldn’t let him do it by himself.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she looked away, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. Jacque was silent for a moment, letting her words settle between them.

“You did the right thing,” he said finally, his tone firm but gentle. “Sometimes, the best thing we can do for someone is simply be there. You gave him something no one else could - your presence, your support. That’s not nothing, Dom.”

She nodded slowly, her throat tight with emotion. “It just… it brought everything back, you know? Mom, the hospital, those nights where I sat there wondering if she’d ever wake up.” She swallowed hard, her voice dropping to a whisper. “She didn’t.”

Jacque’s face softened, and he reached across the space between them to rest a hand on her arm. “No, she didn’t. But you were there for her, and that mattered. Just like it matters now, for Nile. He’s lucky to have you.”

Dom managed a faint smile, though the ache in her chest remained. “I just… I don’t know if I’m enough, Dad. He’s hurting so much, and I can’t fix it. I hate not being able to fix it.”

Jacque gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to fix it. That’s not your job. Your job is to stand beside him, to remind him that he’s not alone. And you’re already doing that.”

The words settled into her like a balm, easing the sharp edges of her guilt and uncertainty. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she met her father’s gaze. “Thanks, Dad. For always knowing what to say.”

Jacque smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Dom rose, her movements slow and deliberate as she prepared to head upstairs. She paused at the foot of the stairs, glancing back at her father. “I think I’m going to check in on Nile tomorrow. Just to make sure he’s okay.”

Jacque nodded, his expression approving. “Good. And Dom?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t forget to take care of yourself, too. You can’t pour from an empty cup.”

She smiled faintly, the warmth of his words following her as she climbed the stairs. Later, as she lay in bed, staring at the shadows dancing across the ceiling, Dom’s thoughts drifted back to Nile. The memory of his hand gripping hers, the weight of his head against her shoulder - it all lingered, intertwining with the echo of her father’s advice.

You don’t have to fix it, she reminded herself. You just have to be there.

And for Nile, she would be. No matter what it took.