CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Quil stood quietly outside the room that now belonged to Zahra, the door slightly ajar, allowing him a glimpse inside. The soft glow of the nightlight cast gentle shadows across the room, which had once been his father's office. After his father's passing, the room had gradually transformed into a storage space, filled with old boxes and forgotten items. Now, it served a new purpose—Zahra's sanctuary.

It had been his mother, Joy, who insisted Zahra have her own room rather than sharing Quil's, despite the space in his being available. "She'd get lost in your mess and we'd never find her again," Joy had joked, her teasing tone aimed at Quil's less-than-organized habits. Zahra, however, had taken the comment literally, her wide eyes brimming with concern as she glanced at Quil as if he might vanish into a chaotic abyss.

It had taken a while to convince Zahra it was just a joke, but after hours of patient reassurance—and more than a few promises to keep his own room clean—she finally agreed to settle into the small room. It was cosy, simple, and entirely hers, a fact that brought Zahra an unexpected amount of comfort in her transition to this new life.

Months passed, and the household adapted to Zahra's presence. The mermaid, with her naturally warm and curious nature, quickly became a beloved part of the community. Her initial struggles with modern technology and human ways of life gradually gave way to understanding, thanks to the collective effort of everyone around her. She had found her rhythm, though there were moments of confusion that often led to endearing misunderstandings.

Her visits to Billy Black and Harry Clearwater became frequent. Zahra had taken to doting on them both, assisting Billy with tasks around his home and sitting at Harry's side to listen intently to his animated fishing stories. Harry, however, was careful to omit the less-than-pleasant details about where most of the fish ended up, unsure of how she might react. Her innocence and genuine care for others had endeared her to both men, who welcomed her visits like sunshine on a cloudy day.

Sue Clearwater had also taken Zahra under her wing, becoming her second teacher in cooking. While Emily had her hands full managing meals for the ever-hungry pack, Sue found moments to guide Zahra through traditional recipes and share quiet moments of mentorship. Zahra's enthusiasm to learn and her desire to contribute made her an eager pupil, and Sue cherished the bond they were building.

Yet as the days turned into weeks, a shadow began to fall over Zahra. The once-energetic mermaid, who could light up a room with her smile, began to lose her spark. It was subtle at first—moments where she seemed tired or distracted—but soon her energy drained visibly, leaving her pale and lethargic. Quil noticed it before anyone else, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive as he sought answers.

He turned to Sue first, hoping her knowledge of natural remedies might help, but nothing seemed to alleviate Zahra's symptoms. It wasn't long before Quil's distress caught Sam's attention. Recognizing the toll it was taking on him, Sam adjusted the patrol schedules, shortening Quil's shifts so he could be with Zahra more often. The rest of the pack stepped in without hesitation, taking on longer shifts to ensure Quil had the time he needed.

Joy, too, was deeply affected by Zahra's condition. She devoted every moment she could spare to the young mermaid, rarely leaving her side. Nights stretched into mornings with Joy sitting vigil by Zahra's bedside, brushing stray strands of hair from her forehead and whispering words of comfort. But the more Zahra faded, the more fear took root in both Quil and Joy.

What perplexed them most, however, was Old Quil's behaviour. Once warm and welcoming to Zahra, he had grown distant and uncharacteristically detached as her condition worsened. His silence on the matter was infuriating, and every attempt by Quil or Joy to get answers from him was met with vague responses or outright dismissal. Even the other elders noticed the change in Old Quil's demeanour, their own efforts to uncover the reason behind it yielding no results.

Late one night, Quil and Joy sat together at the dining table, the dim light casting long shadows over their weary faces. Neither had the energy to turn on the overhead lights; the quiet gloom seemed to match their mood. Quil's hands were clenched tightly, his knuckles white against the wood grain of the table.

"What are we going to do, Mom?" Quil whispered, his voice raw with desperation. His eyes, usually so full of warmth and humour, were dark with worry. "I just don't know how much more of this I can take."

Joy reached across the table, her hand finding his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We'll figure something out, son," she said softly, though her own voice betrayed the cracks in her resolve. "With or without your grandfather's help, we'll find a way."

Quil shook his head, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I just don't get it," he said, his voice breaking. "Why is he acting like this? One minute he's welcoming her like family, and now... now he's pulling away the moment she gets sick. It doesn't make sense."

Joy's grip tightened on his hand, her own eyes brimming with unshed tears. "That's why we're here," she said firmly. "We'll do everything we can for her. Zahra needs us, and we won't let her down."

But her words, though well-meaning, did little to ease Quil's fear. Every time he watched Zahra close her eyes, he couldn't shake the gnawing dread that she might not open them again. The thought haunted him, stealing his sleep and his peace of mind.

"I'm just so scared, Mom," Quil confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes met hers, and in them, she saw the depth of his anguish. "If I lose her... I don't know what being alive would even mean anymore."

Joy's heart broke for her son, and she pulled him into a tight embrace, holding him as he trembled with the weight of his fears. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, their shared silence heavy with unspoken emotions. All they could do was cling to each other and the fragile hope that, somehow, they would find a way to save Zahra before it was too late.