CHAPTER FIVE

Nimah had expected to wake up in the familiar surroundings of the Hogwarts hospital wing, perhaps greeted by Madam Pomfrey's stern fussing and the low hum of chatter from other students. Instead, when her eyes fluttered open, she found herself in a bright, sterile room that was unmistakably not Hogwarts. The unfamiliar sight of the St. Mungo's crest on the wall made her heart sink.

Her body felt heavy, weighed down by an ache that seemed to radiate from her back. She tried to shift, but the sharp stab of pain that shot through her spine stopped her in her tracks. Panic began to creep in as she struggled to understand what was happening. Before she could voice her confusion, she felt the comforting warmth of hands wrapped around her own, grounding her.

Turning her head slowly, she saw her parents standing on either side of her bed. Relief washed over her when she met their worried yet loving gazes.

"Mum? Dad?" she rasped, her voice dry and cracked, barely more than a whisper.

Kaia Black's lips quivered as tears welled in her eyes, but she managed a trembling smile. Sirius Black, ever the composed one, gave her hand a gentle squeeze, his face softening with a mixture of relief and concern.

"Nimi," Sirius said, his voice thick with emotion as he brought her hand to his lips. "You gave us quite the fright."

Despite the pain coursing through her body, Nimah mustered a weak smile. "Careful, Dad," she croaked. "You'll get more grey hairs."

Sirius chuckled softly, his laughter barely masking the emotion in his eyes. "Too late for that, I'm afraid," he said, casting a glance at Kaia. "Your mum's been trying to hold it together, but I don't think she's going to last much longer."

At his words, Kaia broke down completely, tears streaming down her face as she buried her face in her hands. "Mum," Nimah said, her own voice catching at the sight of her mother's pain.

Kaia shook her head and waved a hand, trying to collect herself. "Shh, sweetheart," she said between sobs. "Let me cry for a bit. I need it."

Nimah gave her mother a small nod, her heart twisting at the sight of Kaia's raw emotion. Sirius kept his steady grip on her hand, his touch a silent promise that she wasn't alone.

A few moments later, the door opened, and Nimah's older brother, Skylar, and his wife, Victorie, rushed in. Both looked dishevelled, their faces etched with worry. Victorie's baby bump was more pronounced than Nimah remembered, and a pang of guilt hit her as she realized the stress she must have caused.

"Nimah," Skylar said, his voice tight as he moved to her bedside. "You scared us half to death. What were you thinking?"

Victorie nudged him gently, shooting him a warning look before turning to Nimah with a softer expression. "Don't listen to him," she said, taking Nimah's free hand. "We're just glad you're awake."

As the conversation ebbed and flowed, Nimah couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong—more wrong than just waking up in a hospital bed. Her family's attempts to keep the mood light felt forced, and though they smiled, their eyes betrayed something heavier.

Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, Nimah broke the silence. "So, tell me," she said, her voice firmer now, though it wavered with an edge of fear. "How bad is it? My injury?"

The question hung in the air like a storm cloud. Her parents exchanged a look, one that made Nimah's stomach twist. Skylar straightened, his jaw tightening as he looked to their father for answers.

Sirius cleared his throat, his grip on Nimah's hand tightening slightly. "You're not paralyzed," he began carefully, his voice low but steady.

Relief flooded her for a brief moment, but it was short-lived. "But?" she pressed, her heart pounding in her chest.

Kaia took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she spoke. "But... your back," she said hesitantly. "It's injured. Badly. The healers—" Her voice broke, and Sirius gently placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

"The healers said that continuing to play Quidditch isn't an option anymore," Sirius finished softly.

The words hit Nimah like a Bludger to the chest. She stared at her father, her mind reeling. "What?" she whispered, her voice cracking.

Sirius swallowed hard, his expression pained. "Any further strain could lead to permanent damage. It's too risky, Nimi. You can't play again."

For a moment, Nimah's world stopped. Her mother's voice carried on, explaining more about the injury, about the precautions she'd need to take, but it all faded into a dull hum. The weight of her father's words bore down on her, suffocating her.

Her dream—the future she had built her entire life around—was gone.

She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as tears spilt down her cheeks. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "No. That's not true. It can't be."

Sirius tried to reach for her, but she pulled away, ignoring the sharp pain that flared in her back. "There has to be a mistake, magic can fix it!" she said, her voice growing louder. "I'll heal. I'll recover. I can still—"

"Nimah," Kaia interrupted gently, her own tears falling freely. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

The finality of her mother's tone broke her. She wanted to scream, to fight, to wake up from what felt like a nightmare. Instead, she slumped back against the pillows, the strength leaving her body as sobs wracked her chest.

Her family hovered around her, offering comfort, but it did little to fill the void that had just opened up inside her. Nimah's world had been built on Quidditch, and now that foundation had crumbled.

She didn't know how to move forward. She wasn't sure she even wanted to. The crushing weight of despair bore down on her, and it felt as though the walls of the room were closing in, suffocating her. Her hands trembled as they instinctively reached up, tangling in her hair. Her fingers curled around strands, gripping tightly as though anchoring herself against the storm of emotions threatening to consume her.

A guttural cry escaped her lips, raw and unrestrained, echoing through the sterile room. The sound was filled with anguish, frustration, and the profound grief of loss—not of life, but of the future she had envisioned for herself.

"Nimah!" Kaia's voice cracked as she reached out to her daughter, her own heart-shattering at the sight of Nimah's breakdown.

Sirius moved closer, his strong hand resting on Nimah's shoulder as she hunched over, sobbing uncontrollably. "Nimi," he said gently, his voice thick with emotion, "we're here. It's okay to feel this way. Let it out."

But nothing felt okay. Nothing felt right. The pain coursing through her wasn't just physical—it was a deep, soul-crushing ache that no words of comfort could soothe.

"I can't do this!" Nimah screamed through her tears, her voice hoarse. "I can't—what's the point now? Everything's ruined! Everything!"

Kaia knelt by the bedside, tears streaming down her face as she held onto Nimah's hand. "Sweetheart, I know it feels like that now, but we'll get through this together," she said, her voice trembling. "You're stronger than you think, my love."

Nimah shook her head furiously, her breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. "I don't feel strong," she choked out. "I feel broken."

Skylar and Victoire stood nearby, their faces etched with helplessness. His hands balled into fists, hating that he couldn't fix this for his little sister. She placed a hand on his arm, silently urging him to stay calm.

"You're not broken," Sirius said firmly, kneeling in front of her so she could see the determination in his eyes. "This—this is a setback, yes. But it's not the end, Nimi. You're still here. You're still you. We'll figure out a way to move forward."

But Nimah wasn't ready to hear those words. She pulled her hands free, burying her face in them as the sobs came in waves. Every dream she'd chased since she was old enough to hold a broomstick felt like it had been ripped away in an instant. The future she'd worked tirelessly for was gone, and she had no idea what was left for her now.

Her mother reached up to stroke her hair, whispering soothing words that Nimah barely registered. The room was filled with the quiet sounds of heartbreak—the soft murmurs of comfort, the shuffling of feet, and Nimah's muffled cries.

All she could do was cling to the strands of her hair, gripping tightly as though trying to hold onto some semblance of control. But the truth was, she felt completely and utterly lost. And for the first time in her life, she didn't know how—or if—she could find her way back.