INT. ICU ROOM — AFTERNOON

Jo is awake.
Eyes open. Heavy. Tracking slowly.

The ventilator breathes for her. Steady. Mechanical.

Iris stands at the bedside, finishing up: discarding gloves, smoothing the sheet back into place, checking the abdominal dressing one last time.

Clinical. Gentle. Familiar.

Link enters as Ndugu and Ben step in behind him.

All three clock Jo’s eyes.
Present. Aware.

Link moves immediately to her side.

LINK
I’m here.

IRIS
(to Jo, soft)
All done.

She gives Link a small nod and steps out — the room already full.

Ndugu comes into Jo’s line of sight.

NDUGU
Okay, Jo.
We’re going to try a short breathing trial.

Her eyes focus.

NDUGU (CONT’D)
We’re going to switch you to minimal support and see how you tolerate breathing on your own.
The tube stays in.

A beat.

NDUGU (CONT’D)
If it’s too much, we stop right away.

Link leans closer.

LINK
(quiet, steady)
They’re just seeing how much you can take on.
That’s it.

Jo blinks once. Slow. Intentional. 
Ready.

Ndugu nods to Ben.

The ventilator settings adjust.
The machine’s assist softens.
Almost imperceptible.

At first, she manages.
Her chest rises on its own.

Shallow but controlled.
Link watches her face — every muscle, every shift.

Seconds stretch.
Her breathing quickens.
Her brow tightens.

Her grip tightens around Link’s hand.

BEN
Respiratory rate’s climbing.

A beat.
Both doctors watch the monitor.
Link watches her.

BEN (CONT’D)
Heart rate’s up.

Jo’s breaths grow faster now.
Effortful.

Her shoulders begin to engage.
She’s working.

Her eyes shine. Not panic.
Fatigue. 

She looks at Link.
He squeezes her hand.

LINK
You’re doing great.
 
Her breaths become uneven.
A small tremor runs through her abdomen.

NDUGU
Alright.

No drama. Just decision.

NDUGU (CONT’D)
Let’s give her support back.

Ben adjusts the ventilator.

NDUGU (CONT'D)
And give her a little more for comfort.

Ben nods, adjusts the sedation pump slightly.

Ventilator support comes back up.

The machine takes over more of the work.

Jo sags back into the mattress.

Her shoulders ease.

Spent.
Not dramatic. Just empty.

Breathing still fast. Then gradually steadier.

The room settles.

Link exhales. He hadn’t realized he was holding it.

He looks at Ndugu.
Just a look.
Ndugu meets it.

NDUGU
She’s not ready yet.

Simple. Neutral.

NDUGU (CONT’D)
Her lungs can do it. 
Her heart just can’t support the effort yet.

Accurate.
Post-arrest.
Cardiac strain.

Link nods, absorbing it for her.
He leans toward Jo.

LINK
(reassuring, reframing)
You did great.
That’s all they wanted to see today.

Jo’s eyes open again.
Tears slip free, slow, tired.
More frustration than fear.

She squeezes his hand once.
Weak. But there.

Ndugu watches quietly.

NDUGU
We’ll let her rest.
Reassess tomorrow.

Measured. No false hope.

Ndugu and Ben step out quietly.

The ventilator continues its rhythm.

Link leans forward.
Presses a kiss to her knuckles.

LINK (CONT’D)
(soft)
It just shows us where you are today.

Her eyes close fully.
Exhausted.
Finally still.

Link stays.
Hand wrapped around hers.

The ventilator continues its steady rhythm.
He waits.

FADE OUT.