𝑻𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚-𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆

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Two months later

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Two months later...

"Well, well, well... If it isn't Cheylex in the building." Ashley said from the kitchen doorway, her words stopping Alex's hands from travelling further up my waist as I rinsed the glasses we'd soon be drinking from in the sink.

"Chey—what?" he laughed, turning to her while I shook my head at the silly moniker she'd been calling us by since we started unofficially dating.

"Cheylex. That's your ship name." Ashley said with a shrug. "Cute, isn't it?"

"I don't know if I like it."

"Too bad you don't have a say in it, doc." Ashley laughed as she placed a bag of snacks on the counter. "Where's your brother? Don't tell me I'm about to third wheel alone. Again."

"He's on his way. He's actually looking forward to seeing you." Alex said laughingly, adding to the running joke between us four about how crazy Andrew was for Ashley's body.

"Of course he is." Ashley smirked and busied herself with emptying the snacks she'd brought into serving dishes as Alex stole naughty looks from where he stood beside me.

"How's Binti today, baby?" I asked, my eyes glued to the bags that were forming under his eyes as he dove deeper into his current patient's case at Valley Care Hospital.

It was a miracle that he'd even managed to find free time to watch today's game with us at my place. He'd been spending hours at the hospital, sometimes only able to get home in the early hours of morning. He insisted he was okay, happy to have his daughter close by at the hospital's nursery for when he needed a little pick me up, but I could tell that all the hours of work were getting to him.

"She's hanging in there, but we have to find a viable liver as soon as possible if we want her to be healthy enough to meet her unborn baby." he answered in an exhausted voice.

I pulled him into a hug, my arms rubbing his back as his body, shoulders stiff and heavy, arms wrapped weakly around my waist, communicated his tiredness better than words could.

"How's your grandma, baby?" he whispered into my ear, his words dragged.

"Ahh," I said weakly, "she seems worse everyday. I'm not even Bridget anymore, I'm just a random girl she chats with once a day. She thinks I'm volunteering there as a companion for the patients."

"Does it hurt?"

"It scares me. She's obviously getting no better. I understand that that's how Alzheimer's works, but I thought I'd have a little more time before things got this bad." I admitted. "Dr. Baloyi said she'll help me through my grief if I lose her."

"What? They think it's that bad?" Alex asked, his head shooting up and away from the base of my neck, where he'd buried his face. "They think she's dying?"

"She's old and sick." I nodded sadly, my eyes pooling. "What happens to old, sick people?"

"Pole, msichana wangu mrembo." he whispered, his lips pecking a reassuring kiss onto my forehead.

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