At K and Y Hospital, the security guard stationed at Alicia’s ward quickly stepped aside, holding the door open as Olive wheeled Mr. White toward it. Olive paused outside, giving Mr. White a nod before gently closing the door behind him.

A faint blend of antiseptic, sterile gauze, and the metallic tang of medical equipment lingered in the air as Mr White wheeled himself into the room, the rhythmic beeping of the monitor a constant reminder of the fragility of life. His hands trembled on the wheelchair’s armrests as he took in the sight before him. Alicia lay motionless on the hospital bed, wires snaking across her fragile frame, the ventilator rising and falling in a mechanical rhythm. The sterile blue of her hospital gown only deepened the pallor of her face.

For a moment, he froze. Then, wheeling himself closer, he fought the tears burning in his eyes. But as his gaze lingered on her bandaged hands and her eerily still form, the dam broke. Silent tears rolled down his weathered face, each one carving a path of regret and anguish.

“A...Alicia…” he whispered, his voice cracking. He reached out a trembling hand to touch her cheek. It was warm—she was alive. Relief washed over him, bringing with it a bittersweet smile that wavered under the weight of memory.

He withdrew his hand as if her warmth burned him. The last time they had been close felt like another lifetime. He could still recall the scornful glare she often reserved for him—the way it cut deeper than any words. Even now, the phantom of her disdain gnawed at him, dragging his hand back to his lap.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice thick with grief. Tears streaked down his face as he choked out the words. “I’m so sorry, Alicia.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

.............

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, daddy! Happy birthday to you!”

“Hurray!” Mr. White cheered, his laughter ringing through the room as he swung his six-year-old daughter into his arms.

“Happy birthday, Dad!” Alicia giggled, her round cheeks glowing pink with excitement, her wide, bright eyes glinting like polished pearls.

Mr. White laughed louder, kissing her cheeks and ruffling her soft curls.

“Thank you, darling! I love you so much!”

“I love you too, Dad! You’re the best!” Alicia squealed, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.

...............

“Get out! Get out of my sight!” Alicia’s voice cracked with fury as she hurled a pillow across the room, followed by a crumpled bedsheet and a scattering of cosmetics.

Standing by the door, Mr. White flinched but didn’t move. His lips quivered, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the fabric of his suit pants.

“Alicia, please…” he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Sorry?” she spat, grabbing the glass perfume bottle from her dresser. The apple-scented spray exploded across the room as the bottle shattered against the wall. “Leave! I hate you! I hate you!”

The venom in her words struck him harder than any physical blow. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision as he stared at the daughter who once clung to his neck in pure adoration.

With a final look of defeat, he turned and left, the echo of her rage trailing him down the hall.

..............

Mr. White held Alicia’s cold, fragile hand in his, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. “Alicia…” he whispered again, the name a prayer and a plea. “I’m sorry...so sorry…”

His voice cracked, the words spilling out in broken fragments as he clung to her lifeless hand. The steady beeping of the machines was the only reply, each sounds a reminder of the time they had lost and the mistakes he could never take back.