Sid throat tightened. The weight of everything— the pain, the loss, the people who still cared... hit him all at once. His shoulders trembled, and his eyes filled before he could stop them.

"I don’t... I don’t deserve this."

Morgana stepped closer and gently took his hand.

"You do, Sid. You always did."

Big D’s usual grin softened.

"Yeah, man. You’re not done. We’re still here. Your mom’s still here. And those fans? They’re waiting for you to stand again."

Sid pressed his palm to his eyes, but the tears kept coming. His voice cracked as he whispered,

"You guys are gonna make me cry harder."

Morgana smiled through her own tears.

"Good. Maybe you’ll finally stop pretending you’re made of stone."

They all laughed softly, even through the tears. In that small, quiet room, surrounded by gifts and hope, Sid finally let himself breathe again. For the first time since the fall, he didn’t feel completely broken. He just felt normal human being.

After some time of quiet reflection, Big D stretched and clapped his hands.

"Alright, team sad face, enough crying. Who’s hungry? Because I’m starving."

Morgana rolled her eyes.

"You’re always starving."

"Yeah, well, emotional support takes energy! I’ve been crying, cheering, and worrying for two months straight— I earned a meal."

With that, Morgana took charge in the kitchen while Big D started recording on his phone, pretending to vlog "for memories," though everyone knew he just wanted to make money off it later.

"Behind the scenes of recovery life! Morgs cooking gourmet hospital food, and our hero Sid supervising with that dramatic stare of his."

"Put that phone down, Big D,"

Morgana warned, holding up a ladle like a weapon. He laughed but quickly lowered it.

"Alright, alright! Chill, chef!"

Dinner ended with empty bowls and smiles. The air was calm again, the tension from earlier washed away by the scent of warm soup and laughter that came and went in small waves. Big D leaned back on the couch, patting his stomach with a groan and said, squinting at Morgana’s direction.

"Okay, real talk. Are we still in the hospital? Because this stuff tastes like medicine with salt."

Morgana’s eyes snapped open wide, and before he could duck, she smacked him hard on the arm.

"That’s because Sid still needs to eat healthy, you idiot! You think I’m going to cook something greasy and ruin his rehab?"

Big D rubbed his arm, laughing.

"Damn, woman, that hurt! You’re feeding us like we’re old folks."

Sid chuckled quietly, watching them bicker from the table. For the first time in a while, he felt warmth in the room that wasn’t forced. The noise, the teasing— it almost felt normal again. He leaned back in his chair, smiling softly.

"Guess I’ll take hospital food over no food."

Morgana smiled faintly at that, though she tried to hide it.

"Good answer."

After they ate, Big D helped with the dishes while Morgana wiped the counters. Sid tried to stand to help, but both of them yelled at him to sit down. He gave in with a laugh, resting his brace carefully. When the kitchen was spotless again, Big D stretched and sighed loudly.

"Alright, I guess that’s my cue. I haven’t been home in, what, two months? My parents probably think I’m dead."

Morgana crossed her arms, unimpressed.

"You upload every single day. They’ve probably been enjoying the peace and quiet while you’re gone."

Big D clutched his chest dramatically.

"Ha-ha, that’s kinda hurt, Morgs..."

He muttered as he headed for the door, then turned back with a small grin toward Sid.

"You’re doing better, bro. Don’t forget that. Call me if you need anything— preferably before Morgana tries to cook vegetables again."

"Get out before I throw this pan."

Morgana snapped, half smiling. Big D laughed, waved, and stepped out into the hallway. The apartment felt quieter right after he left— too quiet. Morgana turned toward Sid, her expression softening.

"I’ll stay here tonight."

Sid blinked.

"You don’t have to. Really. You should go home, get some rest. I’ll be fine."

"You’re not staying alone. Not yet."

"Morgana—"

"I mean it. There’s no one waiting for me back home anyway. So why not stay and help you out?"

Sid opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, his phone buzzed on the table. Both of them froze. The caller ID flashed Mom.

"Is that... Mom?"

Morgana smiled gently.

"Yeah."

She picked up the phone and looked at him.

"You ready to talk to her?"

Sid hesitated, then nodded slowly.

"Yeah. I’m ready."

She answered the call and handed the phone over.

"Hi, Mrs. Wilder. He’s right here."

Then she smiled and mouthed,

" Take your time."

Sid pressed the phone to his ear, his voice quiet.

"Hey... Mom."

"Oh, sweetheart."

His mother’s voice was soft and shaky.

"I’ve been calling every day. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there."

He swallowed hard, eyes falling to the floor.

"It’s okay. You’re... you’re doing what you can."

"I saw the stream... And then the hospital updates... if it weren’t for Morgana keeping me informed, I don’t know how I would’ve handled it. She’s been your guardian angel, Sid."

Sid glanced at Morgana, who pretended to look away, embarrassed.

"Yeah... she’s been amazing. You both have."

Before his mother could reply, a smaller voice interrupted on the other end.

"Mom! Is that brother Sid? Is he okay now?"

Sid froze. The voice was high and innocent— his mother’s new son, the little boy she had with her new husband. He remembered hearing about him once but never actually spoke to him before. His mother chuckled softly.

"Yes, honey. He’s right here. Want to say hi?"

"Yeah!"

The boy said eagerly.

"Hi, brother Sid!"

Sid’s chest tightened. "

Hey there, kiddo..."

He managed to say. His voice cracked slightly, so he cleared his throat.

"You... uh, you doing good?"

"I always watch you!"

The boy said excitedly.

"You’re so cool! I liked what you said— the thing about failure."

Sid blinked, his breath catching.

"You... remember that?"

The boy’s voice softened a little.

"Yeah. You said, ’But here’s the thing about failure — it doesn’t mean you’re done. It just means you tried something hard enough that it could break you. And if you can keep standing after that, then you’re already winning.’ I think about that a lot."