OMG shayla recive a bad news about kai
The sun was just beginning to dip beneath the horizon when Shayla’s phone rang. She was in her kitchen, barefoot, stirring lentils on the stove while humming a soft tune from her childhood. It had been a quiet day—almost too quiet—but she was grateful for the stillness. After months of upheaval and heartache, peace felt like a precious gem: rare, fragile, and warm in her palm.
When she saw Kai’s name flash on her screen, she smiled.
Kai was her younger brother. Only by a year, but their bond had always been more like twins—unspoken signals, inside jokes, shared scars. He had a wild heart and a mischievous grin, always chasing adventure, always one step from disaster. Shayla was the opposite: cautious, grounded, the fixer of his messes.
But Kai had been doing better lately.
He had a new job at a solar tech startup in Seattle. He’d even started seeing someone—a bright, freckled girl named Mina. For the first time in years, Shayla didn’t feel like she had to worry about him every second.
So she answered the call with a playful, “Finally decided to call your favorite sister?”
But the voice on the other end wasn’t Kai’s.
“Hi, is this… Shayla Monroe?”
Her heart stopped.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“This is Officer Raymond Lively, Seattle P.D. I’m sorry to be the one to inform you, but your brother, Kai Monroe, has been involved in a serious accident.”
She dropped the spoon.
The world began to tilt.
“What happened?” she demanded, her voice barely working. “Is he alive? Tell me he’s alive.”
“There was a multi-vehicle collision on I-5. He was in the back of a rideshare vehicle. We have him in critical condition at Harborview Medical Center. The doctors are doing everything they can.”
Shayla’s legs gave out and she sank to the floor.
“How bad?” she whispered.
“A head injury. Broken ribs. Possible internal bleeding. He was unconscious when paramedics arrived.”
The officer gave her the rest of the details mechanically—location, contact info for the hospital, what to bring—but Shayla didn’t hear most of it. Her mind had detached, floating somewhere between panic and numbness.
Twelve hours later, she was at the hospital, her clothes wrinkled, her suitcase half-zipped in the chair beside her. The ICU waiting room was all fluorescent lights and quiet sobbing. Time moved strangely—like it was suspended between heartbeats.
A nurse finally appeared. “Are you here for Kai Monroe?”
Shayla leapt to her feet. “Yes. Is he—?”
“He’s stable,” the nurse said gently. “Still unconscious, but the bleeding has been controlled. The next 24 hours will be critical.”
They let her in, just for a moment.
Kai lay there, tubes everywhere, his face pale and bruised. He looked too still. Too quiet. This wasn’t her brother who danced in the rain, who made her laugh when she cried, who sent her voice memos full of nonsense just to make her smile.
She sat beside him and took his hand.
“Hey, little brother,” she whispered. “You have to fight. You hear me? You don’t get to check out early. You don’t get to leave me holding the pieces.”
Her voice cracked. “I need you. I still need you.”
She stayed there all night, watching monitors, memorizing his breathing, praying in a hundred silent ways.
Three days passed.
Then Kai opened his eyes.
The first thing he said was, “Did you seriously cut your hair?”
Shayla broke into laughter and sobs all at once.
Weeks later, the accident would become a milestone in their story—something they'd talk about in the quiet spaces of life. Kai’s recovery was long, painful, and imperfect. There were surgeries. Therapy. Tears. But also gratitude.
Shayla never forgot the sound of that phone call.
How three seconds turned her world upside down.
How life didn’t ask for permission before ripping the floor from under her.
But she also never forgot the moment he came back to her.
From that day forward, she held tighter to every hug, every joke, every breath Kai took. Because she’d learned the hard way that sometimes the people you love are snatched from you in an instant.
And if they’re lucky enough to come back?
You never let them forget how much they mean.
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