Rhapsody (Part 2 of Medley).

37: LOVE WINS.

"Caleb? What are you doing here?"

Of all the places to run into him, the halls of the Intensive Care Unit at a Children's Hospital are not what I would have ever expected.

After we broke up, I was determined not to see him again. The idea of having to look at his face enraged me and hurt me and there was nothing I wouldn't have done to avoid that.

Months passed and I became numb to the sound of his name. It didn't matter if I saw him anymore; I was convinced I would not feel anything anyway. But by then, our lives had taken different paths and we didn't frequent the same places or hang out with the same people anymore, so I never saw him again.

Until today.

"Emilia?"

My feet are glued to the floor and I can't move, hard as I try. It's been a little over two years since we've been in the same room. And even though his face is still recognizable to me, it doesn't feel familiar like it used to. He's just a stranger with a familiar face.

"I could ask the same question! What are you doing here?"

His voice. I had forgotten what it sounded like.

Caleb reaches my side and opens his arms to greet me. Whenever I imagined this moment when we met again, I thought saying hello would be the most awkward thing ever. But it's not. It feels like we're two old friends running into each other after years of no communication. Friendly and warm, but distant.

I'm somewhat glad to see him, but I did not miss him.

"I'm volunteering, bringing toys to the kids."

"I thought you were living in London now?"

"How do you know that?"

"Magazines?  TV? The internet? Take your pick!"

That was a stupid question of me, wasn't it? I will never get used to it, though.

"Right!" I chuckle. "I am. In fact, I'm going back tonight, I've just been visiting my family."

He doesn't seem too interested in the details, not that I'd elaborate on my answer. But the longer I stare into those honey eyes that I once knew how to read, the more I notice their emptiness. The bags under them are a sign of one or two or many sleepless nights, and his hunched shoulders are evidence of exhaustion and... worry?

"Oh, I'm sure your dad's happy you're here."

Some things never do change, do they? After all this time and my father and him are still each other's biggest fans.

"Yeah... but what brings you here? Everything okay?"

I should ask if everyone is okay, instead. This is, after all, a hospital. It's not until then that I consider the implications of his presence here and I start to panic.

"It's Tucker, Emi." Oh, no! No! It can't be! "He's got Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma."

Tucker is Caleb's nephew. He had just turned five years-old when we broke up, so that makes him seven, almost eight now.

And he has cancer. At seven years old.

"Oh, my god! Caleb! How bad is it?" Given that we're in the ICU, it can't be good.

If I, that haven't seen this little boy in over two years, feel like the ground was removed from under my feet and I'm free-falling into a pit of despair, I can't imagine how he and his family must be feeling.

"It's pretty serious." A couple of tears stream down his face as he speaks, and I can't remember any other time when I felt sorry for him. Or can't remember many times when I saw him cry. "Treatment isn't working, he needs a transplant but none of us are compatible to donate."