The hallway felt smaller again; the sounds of the hospital faded into the background. This wasn't about the building anymore; it wasn't even about Lisa. This was about something deeper, something Malik didn't have words for.
"I don't want to be something you bet on," Malik said.
William stepped forward slightly. "I'm not betting on you," he said. "I'm choosing you."
Malik let out a breath. "That sounds the same."
"It's not."
"Feels like it."
The silence stretched again: long, heavy, because neither of them was wrong—they just weren't standing in the same place.
"You think I haven't seen this before?" Malik said quietly. "People come around, say they want to help, then they leave."
"I'm not leaving."
"They all say that."
William nodded. "I know."
"And then they do."
Malik's voice didn't rise; it didn't need to, because the truth in it was enough.
William looked at him for a long moment, then said something different: "Then don't trust me," he said.
Malik blinked. "What?"
"Don't trust me," William repeated. "Not yet."
That wasn't the answer Malik expected.
"You're asking me to take this," Malik said, holding up the paper, "and you're telling me not to trust you?"
"I'm telling you to watch me," William said. The words were calm, steady, real. "Watch what I do," he continued. "Not what I say."
Malik didn't move, because something about that felt different: not easier, but clearer.
"What about my mom?" Malik asked suddenly. The question cut through everything else. "All of it?"
William didn't hesitate. "I'll take care of it."
Malik's eyes narrowed. "No."