If he was calling now, he had likely spoken with Linda’s doctor already.

Eric swiped to answer. “Ernest?” he said, his voice steady but expectant.

“Mmm.” Ernest’s voice was low, drained, laced with a quiet kind of despair. Years of brotherhood had taught Eric how to read Ernest without needing many words.

A heavy weight settled in his chest. “Is it… bad?”

“It is…” Ernest let the word stretch, ending it with a deep, weary sigh. “The doctor thinks it might be… bone cancer.”

The world seemed to lurch. Eric’s hand clenched around the phone, knuckles paling. He hadn’t expected a blow this hard.

A long silence thickened between them before he found his voice again. “Did the results come back?”

“Not yet.” Ernest gave a faint shake of his head. “It’s just what they suspect. The real confirmation will come after the full tests.”

“Ernest…” Eric paused, his voice tight and trembling. “So… it’s not final. Not yet…”

Still, Ernest let out a heavy sigh. “The doctor said she’s been in so much pain these past two nights she hasn’t slept a wink. At first, they thought it was all in her head—psychosomatic, but…”

His voice trailed off, leaving a hush in its wake. The silence that followed wrapped around them like a shroud.

After a moment that felt longer than it was, Ernest spoke again, quieter this time. “I’ll go see her first. You should get some rest.”

“Alright,” Eric murmured, ending the call with a soft click.

He remained still, the phone held tightly in his hand, his brows drawn in a troubled knot. Neither had said it aloud. There had been no need. If the diagnosis was confirmed… Linda might not survive.

Meanwhile, Ernest slipped his phone into his pocket and made his way to Linda’s room.

“Hello, Mr. Flynn.” Jane, the caregiver, opened the door with a soft nod.

? ? .

Ernest returned the gesture. “How is she doing?” But he didn’t need an answer.

The sound of muffled sobs drifted down the hallway.

Jane sighed, her expression pinched with worry. “She’s alright during the day, but once night falls, the pain intensifies. She cries for hours…”

Ernest’s brow creased. “Hasn’t she taken anything for it?”

“She has,” Jane said with a nod. “She just did. But the medicine hasn’t kicked in yet. The doctor said the painkillers can’t be given too frequently—only when it becomes unbearable.”

That made sense, painful as it was.

“I see.” He stepped inside. “I’ll go sit with her.”

Jane led the way and opened the bedroom door for him, but didn’t follow.

Ernest crossed the threshold alone.

Linda was curled on the bed, her body trembling with sobs. He moved closer. Her brows were tightly drawn, her lower lip bitten red—every inch of her etched with pain.

“Linda?” He pulled a chair to her bedside and sat down.

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