Mira's POV
Mira lay still in the sterile white hospital room, her fingers tracing the faint grooves of the bed sheets. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor beside her sounded like a countdown she couldn't escape. One… two… three… Every pulse reminded her that her heart was not like anyone else's. Malignant ventricular arrhythmias had defined her life from birth—an unpredictable metronome that could falter at any moment.
She exhaled, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest. She had been admitted again after a fainting episode in school, and though the doctors had stabilized her, the routine never felt routine. Mira was fourteen, but she had spent more hours lying on hospital beds than walking the hallways of her school.
Looking out the window, she watched the autumn leaves swirl in the breeze. Other kids her age were laughing and running, oblivious to the fragility of life. Mira envied them, but only quietly. She had long stopped wishing for a "normal" life; it seemed a cruel fantasy she could no longer afford to imagine.
Her thoughts drifted to the upcoming school week, which now felt more like a minefield. She hated explaining herself over and over, hated seeing the worry in her classmates' eyes. She hated pity.
A soft knock on the door pulled her from her reverie.
"Hi," said a voice unfamiliar yet warm. Mira looked up to see a boy about two years older than her standing in the doorway, holding a stack of books. His dark hair fell slightly over his eyes, and he had the kind of gentle presence that made her chest tighten—not from arrhythmia, but from something entirely different.
"I… um… I'm Geveva," he said, holding out a hand. "I, uh… I think you're in my history class?"
Mira hesitated, her fingers tightening around the sheets. She had long ago decided she wouldn't talk to new people. It was safer that way. "I'm Mira," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Geveva smiled, not at all deterred by her quiet tone. "Nice to meet you. Don't worry—I'm not here to ask for homework answers. Just… thought I'd say hi."
Mira blinked. She didn't know why, but something about his calm demeanor made the tension in her shoulders ease slightly.
"I… thanks," she muttered, glancing back at the window.
Geveva noticed the monitor beside her bed and frowned slightly. "Hospital again?"
Mira's fingers tightened around the sheets. The question felt loaded, invasive even, yet he didn't seem judgmental. She shrugged. "It's… complicated."
"You could say that again," he replied softly, as if he understood the weight of unspoken things.
There was a pause, then Mira looked up at him. She didn't know why, but she felt the need to ask: "Why are you here?"
"I… I wanted to see if you were okay," he said simply, meeting her gaze. "Seems like you've got a lot on your plate, and… I dunno, maybe you shouldn't have to face it alone."
Mira's throat tightened. Nobody had ever said that to her—not in such a calm, steady way. Usually, people saw her as fragile or frighteningly different. Geveva didn't. And that… unsettled her.
Geveva's POV
Geveva leaned against the doorway, feeling a strange pull toward the girl in the bed. She wasn't just another quiet kid in the hallway—there was something fragile yet stubborn about her. The monitor's beeping was a stark reminder that life wasn't fair, but Geveva didn't care.
He had met plenty of people in his fourteen years who were dramatic or attention-seeking. Mira wasn't like that. She seemed… contained, like she was carrying a weight he couldn't see but could somehow sense.
"You can talk to me," he said softly. He noticed the slight twitch in her fingers and the way she avoided his gaze. "I don't bite."
Mira's small laugh was almost a sigh. "Good to know."
Geveva stepped closer, keeping his tone gentle. "Look, I don't know what's going on, and you don't have to tell me. But… I like people who don't give up, even when life's unfair."
She blinked at him. Nobody—especially her classmates—talked like this. Most people just stared at her monitors and whispered behind her back. But he… he didn't flinch.
"I… I don't usually… meet people like you," she admitted.
He shrugged, smiling faintly. "Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe I was meant to meet you."
Mira's heart skipped, though not for the reason Geveva thought. She turned her gaze back to the window, unsure why she felt both wary and… comforted.
Their Interaction / Spark
Over the next few minutes, their conversation wandered: school assignments, favorite books, even the absurdity of cafeteria lunches. Mira found herself laughing quietly at something Geveva said—something she hadn't done with anyone in a long time.
At one point, she leaned back against the pillow, exhausted but smiling. "You're… weird," she said, her tone teasing but soft.
Geveva grinned. "Weird is just another word for interesting. I think you'll like it here… with me around."
Mira frowned, unsure why she felt the flutter in her chest—was it fear? Curiosity? Something entirely new?
For the first time in a long while, she didn't feel entirely alone.
That evening, as the sun dipped behind the city skyline, Mira stared at the monitor. Her heartbeat steadied, slow and steady. She thought about Geveva's smile, the way he didn't flinch at her illness.
Somehow, despite everything, she felt… hope.
Across town, Geveva walked home, thinking about the girl with the fragile smile. He didn't know why, but he knew he wanted to see her again.
And so, the beginning of something unexpected—something that could either shatter her fragile world or make it whole—had quietly taken its first breath.