We're all still laughing when the door bursts open.

"Okay, who's dying?" Yara demands, half out of breath, holding her clipboard like a weapon.

That only makes Charlotte laugh harder. She wheezes, clutching her stomach, and I'm wiping tears from my eyes.

"No one's dying!" I gasp between giggles. "At least not today!"

Yara blinks, looks from me to Charlotte to Calian — who's doing a very bad job pretending he's not smiling — and groans. "You three are going to give me an actual heart attack."

Charlotte's still hiccuping laughter. "Sorry, Nurse Yara. We were just—"

"Being menaces," Yara finishes for her. "I can hear you halfway down the hall. The morning shift thought something happened."

I grin, unbothered. "Something did happen! Charlotte stood without her wheelchair, and I made Calian laugh. You should've been here — it was history in the making."

Yara's hand goes straight to her forehead. "You know, most people rest when they're recovering."

"Boring," I say, waving a hand. "We're rewriting the recovery process. Laughter therapy. Patent pending."

Calian mutters under his breath, "She's going to get us banned from the hospital."

Charlotte snorts. "They wouldn't dare. We're the entertainment."

Yara exhales the kind of sigh that's half defeat, half affection. "You're lucky I adore you, Eliora Brown."

I beam. "I know. I'm irresistible."

"Mm-hmm," she says, walking over to check my vitals anyway. "And when your heart rate monitor's blaring in ten minutes, I'm gonna remind you of this conversation."

"It's not blaring," I protest. "It's just... enthusiastically beeping."

Charlotte's laughter starts up again, and even Yara can't keep a straight face now. She tries, she really does, but the smile slips through.

"You're all impossible," she says finally, shaking her head. "But... it's nice to hear laughter in here. This place needs more of that." Her words hang softly in the air for a moment — just long enough for me to feel it sink in.

Then I grin again. "See? Even Yara admits I'm a medical miracle."

"Get some more rest before breakfast, chatterbox," she says, turning off one of the overhead lights.

As she walks out, I hear her mumble under her breath, "Three of my favorite patients and not a single one listens."

Charlotte giggles. "She loves us."

"She really does," I whisper, sinking deeper into my pillows.

Calian's still smiling faintly, his sketchbook resting on his lap. "You know," he says softly, "for someone who causes chaos everywhere she goes..."

"Yes?" I grin.

"...you make the hospital feel alive."

I blink, the grin faltering for just a second. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

He glances up, eyes warm. "Don't get used to it."

Charlotte laughs, and I do too — quiet this time, softer. Because it's true.

We're loud, broken, ridiculous, and still here.
And somehow, that feels like enough.

Charlotte starts giggling again under my blanket, eyes watery from laughing too hard. Calian's back to pretending we don't exist — sketchbook open, pencil moving in neat, calm lines.

"So," I say, stretching my arms dramatically. "Now that Nurse Buzzkill's gone—"

"Eliora," Calian warns without even looking up.

"—we can resume our regularly scheduled chaos!"

Charlotte snorts. "You are such a menace."

"I'm an iconic menace," I correct, flipping my hair — which is probably a mess but I'm committing to the bit. "Besides, I've got too much energy. I slept for, what, fifteen hours? I feel like a toddler after three juice boxes."

Charlotte starts laughing already, shaking her head. "Oh no. You've got that look."

"What look?"

"The one that means something stupid is about to happen."

"Rude," I say — then pause, glance at my IV pole, and grin. "Okay, but hear me out."

"Oh no," Charlotte says again, but she's already giggling.

"I've decided," I announce, gripping the pole dramatically, "that I would make an excellent pole dancer."

"Eliora!" Charlotte shrieks, laughing so hard she curls over.

I start spinning slowly around the pole, dragging my IV line like it's a feather boa. "Welcome to the 8th floor! Tonight's main event—Heart Failure Honey!"

Charlotte loses it. She's laughing so hard there are tears streaming down her face. "Stop, stop, I can't breathe!"

"Oh, please, I'll give you CPR," I say, still twirling — well, mostly spinning like a drunk top. "Calian, cue the music!"

Calian doesn't even look up. "No."

"Aw, come on, Sketch, don't be shy! Throw some dollar bills! You can pay me in pudding cups!"

He sighs — loudly — and mutters, "You're going to rip out your IV."

Charlotte's wheezing now, completely gone. "Oh my god, Eli, stop, I can't breathe—"

"See?" I gasp dramatically. "She's dying! She's dying of joy!"

Calian finally looks up, deadpan expression and all. "You're actually insane."

"Correction," I say proudly, still mid-twirl, "I'm hospital famous!"

"You're going to be hospital grounded," he mutters.

I collapse back onto my bed, breathless from laughing, cheeks flushed, and my heart monitor beeping faster than usual. Charlotte's wiping tears from her face, gasping for air.

When I finally catch my breath, I grin at Calian. "You're welcome for the free show."

He just shakes his head. "You're lucky Yara didn't come back in."

"She'd give me a ten out of ten," I say smugly.

"She'd give you a sedative," he replies.

Charlotte laughs again, and I throw a pillow at him. He dodges, barely. And even though he looks annoyed, I swear there's the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

I flop back against the pillow, giggling to myself. "See, Charlotte? I told you laughter is the best medicine."

"Yeah," she says, still breathless. "But you're the overdose."

Charlotte's still wheezing from laughter when I jump up again, full of the kind of reckless energy that can only mean trouble.

"Wait, wait, I've got another move!" I say, clutching my IV pole like it's an Olympic apparatus. "You're gonna love this one!"

"Eliora, sit down," Calian warns immediately, but he sounds way too calm — like someone who's already accepted his fate.

Charlotte's half-laughing, half-pleading. "Please don't, my ribs hurt!"

"Don't be jealous of my natural talent!" I say, spinning the pole dramatically. The wheels squeak against the floor, and the IV bag wobbles dangerously.

"Eliora—"

"Just wait for it!" I interrupt, gripping the pole tighter. "Okay, this is called the Heartbreaker Twirl!"

I give myself one solid push off the bed, twirl around the pole—

—and immediately realize that hospital socks may have traction... but my fuzzy lavender ones do not.

The world tilts. There's a loud crash!
And suddenly I'm on the floor, tangled in a mess of tubing and blanket, my IV pole tipped over beside me like it fainted out of solidarity.

Charlotte's frozen mid-laugh, eyes wide.
Calian just stares at me, blinking slowly like his brain is buffering.

And right on cue—

The door slams open.

"WHAT on earth—"

Yara's voice could silence the apocalypse. She stands in the doorway, hands on hips, eyes darting between me on the floor, the fallen IV pole, and Calian standing there like this isn't his problem.

"Hi, Yara," I say weakly, still flat on my back. "You're just in time for my big finale."

"Eliora Brown," she says, voice low and dangerous, "what—exactly—were you doing?"

"Uh... cardio?"

Charlotte snorts so hard she nearly falls off her chair.

"Cardio?" Yara repeats.

"Technically," I say, pointing at the IV pole, "it was interpretive dance."

Calian groans, dragging a hand down his face. "She fell."

"I see that," Yara says through gritted teeth, kneeling beside me. "Are you hurt?"

"Only my pride," I mumble.

"Good. Then you can use it to pull yourself together." She looks at the IV line, shaking her head. "You pulled this out, Eli. You're lucky it didn't tear."

"See?" I grin. "Progress! I may be clumsy, but I'm sturdy."

Yara glares. "I'm adding 'no dance routines' to your chart."

Charlotte completely loses it again, laughing so hard she's gasping for air. "Oh my God, Eli, you're gonna get banned from walking!"

"That's fine," I say, still sprawled on the floor. "I'll just roll everywhere. Call me the Human Wheelchair."

Yara pinches the bridge of her nose. "I swear, you'll be the reason I retire early."

"Aw, but then who'll yell at me every day?" I grin up at her.

Calian leans back on his bed, shaking his head. "You're unbelievable."

"Thank you," I say sweetly, finally sitting up.

Yara sighs deeply — the kind of sigh that carries the weight of every nurse in the world — and mutters, "You three are going to give me gray hair."

Then, despite herself, she starts to laugh too.

Just a little. Just enough.

And somehow, even though I'm still sitting on the floor tangled in my IV line, I can't help but think—
yeah, maybe laughter really is medicine.

Yara's muttering under her breath as she helps me back up. Something about "ungrateful children" and "why do I even bother," but she's holding my arm so gently it almost feels like a hug in disguise.

"Careful," she says, steadying me as I climb back into bed. "You've officially used up your daily quota of bad decisions."

I grin. "That's impossible. I make at least seven before lunch."

Charlotte snorts from across the room, still trying to stop laughing. "Yara, you should've seen her face when she fell—it was like she was in slow motion!"

"Charlotte," Yara says without looking at her, "don't encourage her."

"Too late," Charlotte wheezes, clutching her stomach. "This is the best thing that's happened to me all week."

Calian's quietly resetting my IV pole in the corner. He works so carefully, so methodically, like if he doesn't fix it perfectly the world might implode. He doesn't say anything, but his lips are pressed tight — the kind of tight that hides a laugh he's pretending not to have.

"Thank you, Sketch," I say sweetly, watching him plug the line back in.

He gives me a look — half annoyance, half soft exasperation. "You're supposed to rest, not audition for Cirque du Soleil."

"I was expressing myself artistically!"

"You were expressing gravity," he mutters.

Charlotte loses it again. Yara shoots her a look, which somehow only makes her laugh harder.

"Honestly," Yara sighs, clipping my IV line back into place. "I leave this room for ten minutes—ten minutes—and it turns into a comedy show."

"Technically," I say, voice still a little breathless, "it was a tragedy."

Yara arches a brow. "Keep talking and I'll make it one."

"See? That's why you're my favorite nurse."

She rolls her eyes but her lips twitch. "I'm everyone's favorite nurse. Don't test it."

Once she's done fussing with the machines, she adjusts my blanket and stands back with that mother-hen look she tries to hide. "You're lucky you didn't rip the line, Eliora. You need to be more careful."

I soften a little. "I know. I just—" I shrug. "Sometimes when I've got energy, it feels like I'll burst if I don't let it out. Like I have to laugh or move or something before the hospital swallows me."

Yara's expression melts instantly. "Sweetheart," she says quietly, brushing a strand of hair from my face, "the hospital isn't going to swallow you. But if it ever tries, I'll fight it for you."

My throat tightens. "You'd probably win."

"Obviously," she says, smirking. "Now stay in bed before I tape you there."

Charlotte's giggling again. "You could use the IV line!"

"Charlotte," Yara warns, but she's laughing too now — that small, tired laugh of someone who's surrendered to the chaos.

As she leaves, she turns in the doorway. "If I hear another crash from this room, I'm transferring all three of you to pediatrics. Maybe the toddlers will teach you how to behave."

The door shuts behind her. Silence falls for about three seconds.

Then I look at Charlotte. She looks at me.

We both burst out laughing again.

Calian groans from his bed. "Unbelievable."

I grin through my laughter. "Come on, Sketch, admit it. We make this place interesting."

He looks up from his sketchbook — that tiny, reluctant smile finally appearing. "You make this place impossible."

"Close enough," I say, lying back and letting the laughter fade into something softer.

The monitor hums, Charlotte's giggles quiet, and for the first time in days, the room feels alive again — messy, loud, and full of love.