In the dim, humming corridors of Walford General, where the fluorescent lights flickered with an almost sentient unease and the distant echo of hurried footsteps blended with the soft mechanical sighs of hospital machines, Eve strode forward with a determined energy that masked the storm inside her, gripping the edges of her jacket as though the fabric itself might steady the emotions swirling in her chest, and when she pushed open the door to Suki’s room she found the woman sitting upright despite the warning beeps of the monitor beside her, their eyes locking instantly, charged with unresolved heartbreak, pride, and the simmering fear that comes from knowing someone still holds the power to wound you deeply, and as Eve stepped closer they exchanged sharp words that trembled with longing disguised as accusation, the tension between them rising like steam from a cracked pipe until neither could tell whether their voices shook from anger or the desperate need to close the distance between them, and then, just as Eve’s breath hitched and Suki’s lips parted to finally confess the truth she had been carrying like an anchor on her ribs, the air shifted, a strange subtle drop in the room’s atmosphere as the soft hiss of the oxygen line faltered, barely noticeable at first, like a heartbeat skipping a single beat before racing to catch up, but Suki felt it immediately, her hand flying to her chest as her lungs strained for the air that was no longer flowing with its usual steady rhythm, and Eve, still half-blinded by the argument, didn’t realize what was happening until the monitor’s blip grew frantic, shrill, startling her as she turned to see the color draining from Suki’s face, her strength flickering like a candle in the wind, prompting Eve to rush forward, pressing the call button and shouting into the hallway for help while her fingers trembled over the tangled tubing, uselessly trying to restore the flow even though she had no idea what caused the disruption, and Suki, her breaths turning into thin wheezes, reached out with shaking fingers that brushed Eve’s wrist, grounding her in the midst of panic, their eyes meeting again but now stripped of every barrier, every shield, leaving only raw fear and the truth neither had managed to speak moments earlier, and as Suki’s voice rasped—a broken whisper shaped more by emotion than breath—Eve leaned in close, her heart pounding loud enough to drown out everything else except the desperate plea in Suki’s gaze, but before she could make out the words, the door burst open as a team of nurses and a doctor swept in with urgent precision, gently pulling Eve aside while they worked to restore the oxygen supply, adjusting valves and reconnecting lines with practiced hands, their commands sharp and overlapping as the room transformed into a whirlwind of clinical chaos, and Eve stood near the wall, rooted to the floor, helplessly watching Suki’s chest rise in shallow, uneven motions while the doctor barked orders, the seconds stretching into an eternity heavy with the dread that she might lose Suki before they could mend the wounds between them, and when the oxygen finally surged back into the system with a faint hiss that sounded like the room itself exhaling in relief, Suki’s breathing began to steady, slow but real, her eyes fluttering open just enough to find Eve again, and though the nurses urged her to give them space, Eve stepped forward the moment they allowed it, standing at Suki’s bedside as the doctor reassured them that they had caught the issue in time even as he explained that a mechanical fault had caused the temporary disruption, though he promised an investigation would follow to prevent any recurrence, but Eve barely heard him, her entire focus locked on Suki, whose hand now lay loosely open on the bedsheet, an invitation without words, prompting Eve to take it gently, intertwining their fingers as though anchoring Suki to the world, and in that fragile moment, surrounded by the lingering beeps of the monitor and the faint medicinal scent of the room, they finally allowed the truth to settle between them, not spoken aloud but understood in the softness of their shared breath and the quiet resolve that whatever had nearly torn them apart—whether pride, fear, or circumstance—no longer mattered as much as the undeniable pull that had brought Eve racing into the room in the first place and had kept Suki reaching for her even as the world blurred at the edges, and though the tragedy of the disrupted oxygen supply left a haunting shadow over the day, it also carved out a space for honesty neither had dared before, binding them together with the knowledge that life was far too fragile for unspoken words, especially the ones that mattered most.