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They are both sitting close with his mom’s head resting on his shoulders. The sight makes me smile.
The door to the waiting room creaks open, and the doctor steps in. The scent of disinfectant wafts in with him.
Kyle and his mom both stand at the same time. “Doctor, how is my husband?” Kyle’s mom asks almost immediately.
“Please come with me to my office.”
The doctor's measured words hang in the air. And in that moment, the taste of fear becomes undeniable, coating the inside of my mouth with its acrid presence.
I’m standing rooted to the spot as I watch Kyle and his mom walk to the doctor’s office. So many questions raced through my mind. Is Kyle’s dad going to be alright? Is he badly injured? Or could he be dead?
My mind races with unanswered questions, each step Kyle takes toward the doctor's office amplifying the knot of apprehension in my stomach.
I glance around, seeking a semblance of reassurance in the stoic faces of other waiting families. The weight of the unknown hangs in the air, and I find myself desperately praying that Kyle's father isn't dead.
Chapter 23
Kyle
One Week Later.
The hospital room, now transformed into a temporary command center, is filled with the hushed discussions of doctors, the rhythmic beeping of monitors, and the occasional murmur of voices outside in the hallway.
My father lies in the hospital bed, an unspoken strength emanating from him despite the vulnerability that comes with post-surgery recovery. It’s been a week since he was involved in the accident, and the doctors still can’t tell if he will be able to walk or not.
He was hit by a hit-and-run driver. The police are currently investigating to find whoever the culprit is, but I know that might take forever, and that’s why I’ve gotten a private investigator to look into and get me the person who did this to my father.
I know what you might be thinking right now, that I’ve always wanted my father dead and I should be happy he’s in this situation.
The truth is that I only had those thoughts out of anger. The night I got called and was told about my father’s accident, was when I realized that even though my dad and I aren’t on good terms, I don’t want him dead.
These past few days have made me remember how fickle life is. One minute we are here and then we are no more. It made me realize life is too short for us to be holding grudges.
Jewel sits beside me, her presence a comforting balm in the midst of the sterile surroundings. She's been a pillar of support, offering solace during the long nights and sharing the weight of uncertainty that hangs in the air. As I steal a glance at her, Isee the lines of concern etched on her face, a reflection of the collective anxiety we all carry.
“Hey…” I gently squeeze her hand and she turn to look at me smiling. “I think you should go home. You need to get some rest.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” she replies with a shake of her head.
Her reaction makes me smile. “You know, I’m not the one hospitalized right?”
“I know, silly.” She tries to stifle a yawn.
“Come on, the driver will take you home.” I stand up and help her to her feet.
“Why don’t you come with me? You look tired and also need to get some rest.”
“Your wife is right, you should go home and get some rest,” comes my mom’s voice as she walks in carrying a basket of fruit.
She had left earlier to get some rest and isn’t supposed to be back until evening, but I guess she couldn’t stay away from her husband for too long.
“Go home, I will stay here with him,” she says as she hugs me briefly.
I kiss her cheek before getting my coat and leaving with Jewel. We both walk out of the hospital in silence with my arms draped around her shoulders.
The hospital corridors stretch endlessly, each step accompanied by the sterile scent of antiseptic and the low hum of medical machinery. It’s the weekend and the hospital is quite buzzing with people.
“Would you like to grab something to eat?” I ask Jewel as we get to the car park. My driver steps out of the car and opens the back door for the both of us to get in.
