Fragile Hearts

Eliza  woke up to the soft murmur of morning light filtering through her curtains, casting a gentle glow across her serene bedroom. At eighteen, she was accustomed to the routine dictated by her fragile health—a life of careful steps and measured breaths. As she stretched, Eliza's thoughts drifted to the day ahead, a day filled with the familiar rhythms of her controlled existence.

Her parents, ever vigilant, entered her room promptly at eight, their expressions a blend of concern and affection. "Good morning, darling," her mother greeted with a warm smile, though it carried the weight of unspoken worries.

"Morning, Mom, Dad," Eliza replied, sitting up and adjusting her pillows. "Time for another check-up?"

Her father nodded solemnly. "Yes, Eliza. Dr. Reynolds wants to see you before noon. He mentioned something about adjusting your medication."

Eliza sighed inwardly, knowing the routine all too well. "Alright, I'll get ready."

At the doctor's office, Dr. Reynolds conducted his examination with practiced efficiency. "Eliza, your heart rate has been stable, which is good," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. "But I'd like you to start wearing this heart monitor watch. It'll help us track your condition more closely."

Eliza accepted the watch with a resigned nod. "Thank you, Doctor."

"And remember," Dr. Reynolds added gently, "take your medication as prescribed. It's crucial for your health."

Later that evening, as Eliza sat by her window, the world outside beckoned in a way it always did. She whispered to herself, "I wish I could have a normal life, a normal heart. I want to do things without constant supervision, without this condition holding me back."

The next day at school, Eliza excelled as always, her intelligence and diligence shining through. She was the top student, admired by peers and teachers alike for her academic prowess and quiet determination.

During lunch break, a golden invitation arrived, inviting her to the upcoming charity ball—an event eagerly anticipated by the country's elite. Eliza's heart skipped a beat as she read the elaborate script. She knew attending would be a battle.

That evening, she broached the subject with her parents, holding the invitation delicately in her hands. "Mom, Dad, I want to go to this ball," she said firmly, though her voice trembled with anticipation.

Her mother exchanged a worried glance with her father before speaking. "Eliza, you know it's too risky. The excitement, the crowds—it's not good for your condition."

Eliza's resolve hardened. "I'll take every precaution, I promise. Please, let me prove that I can handle it."

Her father sighed, torn between paternal concern and recognizing his daughter's growing need for independence. "We'll discuss it," he finally conceded.

Days passed in anxious anticipation until finally, her parents relented. "Alright, Eliza," her mother said reluctantly. "But you must promise to be careful. We'll have a doctor on standby, just in case."

Eliza beamed with gratitude, her heart soaring with the prospect of freedom, even if fleeting.