CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

A mother never wants to hear her child utter words as heart-wrenching as Quil's. For Joy, those words became a heavy burden she silently carried, but they also steeled her resolve. If her son was going to falter under the weight of despair, she would hold them both up. She had to be strong for him, for Zahra, and for the family they had become.

The days were agonizingly slow, each hour filled with uncertainty and fear, but Joy refused to let the despair consume her or her son. She kept her focus sharp, monitoring Quil's well-being as much as Zahra's. Whenever he tried to skip a meal, Joy was there, her tone firm but loving as she coaxed him into eating. When his sleepless nights began to show in the dark circles under his eyes, she intervened, forcing him to rest even when he protested.

Quil's denial of his own needs didn't deter her; Joy ignored his stubbornness and leaned on others for support. Embry and Jacob, ever-loyal friends, were quick to answer her call for help. The two of them joined Joy in her efforts, whether it was dragging Quil out for fresh air or distracting him with tasks that needed doing. Quil's anger at their interference was met with patient determination. Embry and Jacob knew their actions were for his own good. They also understood that Quil's mental health was crucial for Zahra's recovery.

The last thing Zahra needed was to sense Quil's growing despair. If she did, it might weigh on her fragile spirit, and they couldn't afford that. Zahra needed hope—something to hold on to.

But Zahra was fighting her own battle. Confined to her bed, her body felt heavier and weaker with each passing day. Yet, in her heart, she knew what she needed: the sea. The water was her lifeblood, her sanctuary, the essence of her existence. It called to her like a whisper on the wind, growing louder as her condition worsened. Yet, no matter how desperately she wanted to plead for help, the words wouldn't come.

Every time Quil, Joy, or anyone else entered her room, Zahra's heart would race with urgency. She would try to summon the courage to ask them to take her to the ocean, but her voice betrayed her. The words remained locked in her throat, replaced by platitudes she didn't mean.

"I'm feeling better," she would say, her voice weak and unconvincing.

Lies, Zahra thought bitterly every time. Lies. She wasn't feeling better, and the deceit felt like a betrayal to those she cared about. But something—some unseen barrier—kept her from speaking the truth.

Her body was failing, and she knew what that meant. If she couldn't find a way to reach the sea, her life would end as all her kind did: she would dissolve into sea foam, her essence scattering into the waves. The thought terrified her, not just because of her impending death, but because of the pain it would bring to those she loved. She couldn't let Quil or Joy experience the trauma of losing her—not like this.

Zahra clung to these fears, battling the mental images that haunted her whenever she closed her eyes. Each time, she saw herself slipping away, leaving behind only sorrow and guilt.

One afternoon, Joy entered the room, her familiar presence breaking the silence. Zahra's eyes fluttered open, landing on the woman who had become like a second mother to her. Joy's bright smile, though tinged with weariness, warmed Zahra's heart.

"Zahra, sweetheart," Joy said gently, taking a seat in the chair beside the bed. "How are you feeling today?"

Zahra's face tightened, and her mouth opened as if to finally confess the truth. But once again, the words refused to form. Instead, her voice betrayed her, offering the same hollow response. "Feeling better," she murmured.

Joy's expression softened as she brushed a strand of hair from Zahra's forehead. "Is there anything you need? I'm not the best cook, but I'll do my best to make you whatever you'd like." Her voice wavered slightly, betraying the anguish she tried so hard to hide.

Zahra saw the pain in Joy's eyes, and something inside her burned. She couldn't let this go on. The words she'd fought to speak began to rise again, bubbling up like a tide breaking through a dam. Her lips trembled as she finally whispered, "Water..."

Joy blinked, leaning closer to catch the faint word. "I'll get you a glass," she offered, starting to rise.

But Zahra's hand shot out, weak but insistent, grasping Joy's wrist. She shook her head, her lips trembling as she repeated, "Wat...er..."

Joy froze, her mind racing as she tried to decipher what Zahra meant. Then it hit her like a bolt of lightning, and her breath caught in her throat. "You need the ocean," she said softly, the realization dawning on her.

Zahra's lips curved into a faint smile, her relief palpable. Joy's heart swelled with determination. Whatever it took, she would get Zahra to the sea. No matter the challenges, no matter the cost, she wouldn't let this girl—this daughter of her heart—fade away.