Chapter 23

The week had ended like a storm retreating to the horizon, heavy, bruised, and lingering.

At Niran Kai Medical Center, the air was thick with tension. Dr. Williams and her specialized team had spent sleepless nights fighting to save the son of the wealthy businessman, Jerry Richardson. The boy’s prognosis remained uncertain. Every hour brought new complications, and every channel carried the story. Reporters camped outside the hospital gates, waiting for a statement.

Inside the operating room, Dr. Williams moved with controlled precision. Her hands, once hailed as “the magic hands” of Niran Kai, trembled only when no one was looking. She worked in silence, her breath steady, her mind locked on the fragile heartbeat that dictated the rhythm of her world.

Outside those walls, another battle was being fought.

Thanks to her friend Kannika, Evelyn had finally secured a competent lawyer. Yet every attempt to meet with the hospital’s representatives was postponed. The excuse remained the same: Dr. Williams was unavailable.

Mr. Polo, meanwhile, had chosen silence. He told Dr. Williams nothing of Mr. Mayeur’s withdrawal or Evelyn’s renewed attempt at an amicable settlement. The old man didn’t want to disturb her, not when the city’s eyes were fixed on her. He bore the weight of Emilio’s confession alone, suppressing the chaos within him while keeping the hospital’s façade intact.

Behind the scenes, Emilio had been quietly suspended from all interventions. Polo went further than Williams had asked; he confined him to administrative duties under the pretext of internal restructuring. The man who once commanded the gynecology department now sat behind a desk, stripped of purpose, haunted by what he had confessed. His title, however, remained untouched. Polo knew that announcing a demotion or disciplinary action amidst the current media scrutiny would invite endless, destabilizing questions.

While the rest of the staff was preoccupied with their own crises, one absence stood out: Malaya’s. No one had seen her for days. Rosa, worried, had tried calling countless times to no avail. So, she decided to visit in person. She had already lied to Dr. Williams once, citing Malaya’s supposed mild illness to protect her friend from reprimand.

This day, a rare Sunday when part of the staff was permitted to leave early, was opportune. In the taxi, Rosa pressed her forehead against the glass, anxious and restless. After a short trip, the address led her to a large, densely packed housing complex. A few inquiries later, she found Malaya’s door number.

Knock, knock, knock.

After several tries, the door finally creaked open.

Rosa froze.

Malaya stood there utterly unrecognizable: neglected, alarmingly thin, and worn. Her clothes were rumpled, her eyes sunken, her hair unkempt. She looked as though she had been starving herself of sunlight and sustenance. The once-vibrant young woman now looked like a shadow.

“Malaya!” Rosa gasped, stepping forward. “What’s going on?”

Malaya, clearly startled to see her colleague, stammered a greeting. But Rosa didn’t wait for an invitation. She gently pushed the door open and stepped into the apartment. The air was heavy and stale, the blinds drawn, and the interior a chaos of misplaced objects and unwashed dishes. Deeply embarrassed, Malaya tried to explain. “Rosa… I’m fine. I just needed to rest.”

“No, Malaya,” Rosa interrupted, her voice firm but gentle. “Please don’t lie to me.”

Malaya sat down, and Rosa followed. Silence stretched between them. Malaya kept her eyes on the ground, her fingers nervously rubbing the edge of her sleeve. Rosa studied her colleague for a moment, then got up and went straight to the small, filthy kitchen. she began to clean, using whatever supplies she found, and put food on the stove. Malaya remained seated, silent and motionless, as though Rosa were an invisible helper.

An hour later, the house smelled of warm soup and fresh air. Rosa returned with a gentle firmness in her voice. “Go take a shower.”

Malaya obeyed. When she emerged, dressed in clean pajamas, Rosa fed her, forcing her to take small, deliberate bites. A brief while later, Malaya drifted into a deep sleep. Rosa covered her.

“What happened to you, Malaya?” she whispered. “What are you hiding?”

Then she turned off the light and sat quietly in the dark beside her.

Elsewhere in the city, Jack had finally convinced Evelyn to join him for a long-anticipated date: a movie night followed by a walk. He’d imagined laughter, closeness—perhaps even a moment of redemption between them. But the evening was off from the start. At the cinema, she avoided his gaze. At dinner, she smiled out of politeness, her mind clearly elsewhere. The candlelight revealed a distance he could no longer bridge.

Halfway through the meal, Evelyn put down her fork. Her voice trembled slightly.

“Jack… there’s something I need to tell you.”

He looked up, his stomach tightening. “What is it?”

“I’m leaving the city.”

The words hit him like a drumbeat. “Are you going on a trip?”

“No,” she said quietly. “I’m leaving permanently.”

Jack’s throat went dry. “And the orphanage?”

“I’ll leave it under someone’s care. I’ll still visit, but… It’s time for me to move on.”

He tried to find the right words, but his voice cracked. “And us, Evelyn? What happens to us?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk about.”

Jack swallowed. “A long-distance relationship won’t work. My work is here.”

She stayed silent.

“Or do you want to…” He hesitated, unable to finish.

“Jack, I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I just can’t.”

“You don’t want to be with me anymore?” He pushed his plate away, his eyes filled with sharp, bitter pain.

“I’m truly sorry, Jack. You’re a good person.”

“Did I pressure you?”

“No, not really. I… I’m just not ready.”

“Evelyn, you know I can be patient. If it’s because of the other night, I apologize. I had no intention of pressuring you. We don’t have to sleep together to be a couple.”

“No, Jack, it has nothing to do with that. I have to leave.”

“But why?”

“Because I have to.”

“Evelyn…”

“No, Jack, let’s end this.”

“Evelyn, please…”

Evelyn stood to leave, but Jack reached out and gently caught her wrist. “Please, let’s talk.”

She pulled her hand away, her voice hardening with brutal finality. “No, stop, Jack. I don’t love you.”

Jack froze. Her words pierced his heart like shrapnel.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, and turned away.

Outside, the night wind carried the faint sound of traffic. Jack remained seated long after she’d gone, a lonely figure beneath the dim lights of the terrace, his meal untouched, his heart caving in on itself.

By nightfall, the city had quieted under the weight of its own heat. Kannika sat in her car, parked in front of a hotel, waiting for someone, or something, when her phone rang.

“Evelyn?”
“I just broke up with Jack,” Evelyn said, her voice distant.

“Are you okay?… Where are you now?” Kannika asked, her eyes fixed on the hotel doors—when suddenly, her windshield was violently shattered by an unseen individual, ending the call with a sickening crack and a shower of glass.

Evelyn heard a jarring noise but couldn’t tell if it was merely network interference or something far worse concerning Kannika. She immediately tried to call back, but the line would not connect, leaving her with a growing, cold dread.

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