Chapter Five
1377 Words
Eveline.
Julian is in the corridor, phone pressed to his ear.
I watch him through the glass. He lowers the phone. Looks at me. Shakes his head, helpless… and raises it back to his ear to try again.
Inside the room, Dr. Harry is doing everything he can, which isn't enough. The nurses move fast, precise, but their eyes keep cutting into the monitor and that says everything.
Harold's chest is heaving.
I press my back harder into the wall. My heart beating crazily against my chest. My eyes are blurry.
Harold can't die now. No. What will happen to me?
I don't have anyone. At all.
My body starts trembling, my breathing races, I'm having a panic attack, but I can't focus on that right now. I go down, bending down, while I look at the chaos going on around me and in my mind. It all feels like a nightmare. I wish I could pause on it.
The corridor suddenly shifts. Cold air blows against my bare skin, almost causing a shiver.
Not a sound. Not an announcement. Just a change in the air — the particular kind that happens when someone who knows exactly where they're going moves through a space that isn't expecting them.
I turn my head.
He's already past me.
I stand to my feet.
Dark scrubs, a white coat, a badge clipped to his chest. Moving fast but not running, the way people move when urgency is something they've trained into muscle memory instead of panic. Dr. Harry looks up — surprise, then immediate relief, the specific relief of someone who has been handed something they desperately needed.
Julian appeared beside me. "That's…"
"I know," I say. s**t! My reflexes: I'm not supposed to know who that is.
He gives me a ‘how did you know?’ look. I don't respond.
We stand and watch.
He works without theatre.
No commands, no performance. He reads the monitor in one glance, says something to Dr. Harry who nods and steps back, and then his hands are moving — adjusting the IV line, checking Harold's airway, pressing two fingers to the side of Harold's neck with the focused stillness of a man who can hear things other people can't.
One of the nurses hands him something. He doesn't look at her when he takes it. His eyes stay on Harold.
Sixty seconds. Maybe ninety.
The monitor's screaming drops to something faster than normal, then steadier, the sound begins settling back into a rhythm. Not perfect. But controlled.
Harold's chest stops fighting itself.
Julian exhales in relief beside me.
We move out of the room, to allow them to do their thing. As long as I've seen, the monitor shows that his heart rate is back to normal.
I feel my pumping chest steadying, as I watch Lucian step back from the bed, look at the monitor one more time, say something quiet to Dr. Harry. Dr. Harry nods, and writes something on the chart.
Dr. Harry comes out to us first.
"He's stable," he says. "For now."
"How did he…" Julian starts.
"Dr. Vale was already on his way. I contacted him early this morning, when we confirmed the diagnosis. He agreed to come in today to assess Mr. Hart directly." He glances back through the glass. "He arrived downstairs as the episode began. The timing…" A small pause. "Was fortunate.”
"Can we go in?" I ask.
"Give him a few minutes," he says.
Lucian comes out eight minutes later.
He sees Julian first. Something in his face adjusts — not warmth. Not love. I can't quite place it, but it's not the specific appearance of two people who share blood, history and ‘happy’ memories.
Julian knows him. I don't know him — at least that's what they think. Harold knows him too, and I had just met him last night, and in the worst way possible.
"Julian," he nods.
"Uncle Lucian." Julian steps forward. The hug is brief, the kind between men who never played it. "Thank you. I was calling…"
"I know. I was already in the building." His voice is the same. Exactly the same. Low, unhurried, each word chosen and placed.
His eyes move.
They find me like they already knew where to look.
I hold his gaze for exactly as long as a stranger would. Not a second longer.
"This is Eveline," Julian says, stepping back and wrapping his arm around me. "My fiancée. She's been here all morning."
Lucian looks at me.
I avoid eye contact.
"Eveline," Lucian says. “That's a nice name. Pleased to meet you, Eveline”, he stretches his right arm for a handshake.
"Dr. Vale." My voice is level, I return the handshake. My face is composed. I have never worked harder for either. "Thank you for what you did there. You saved his life.”
He holds my gaze one beat longer than necessary. Then he looks back at Julian.
"I need to review his scans before we discuss next steps," he says. "And I'll need to speak with Harold when he's rested.”
***
Harold.
The first thing I see after opening my eyes is the white ceiling, and Eveline's hand on mine. She is sleeping next to me.
I can't remember anything else, I just know that I was having a conversation with Eveline, and blank.
Eveline wakes up, like she noticed me move. Her eyes — red, almost like she had been crying.
“Heyyy, what happened?”
“You had an episode," her eyes blurry with tears. “Lucian had to step in to save you."
Lucian?!
“Did he lea…”
Lucian walks in, interrupting my question.
He stands by my left, close to the monitor. Checks it, and uses the thermometer to check my heart beat.
“You look terrible,” he says in his silly mockery tone. Gosh! I almost miss that. “You were out for over an hour”.
I smile. I turn to my right. “Eveline, could you please give Lucian and I a second?” I ask Eveline who is still seated, looking confused at how Lucian was relating with me.
She's probably confused by now. She never met Lucian, and everyone has been talking about him all day. And I've not been able to give her a proper explanation.
“Sure,” she stands up to leave.
“You’re late,” I say, with my staggered breathing.
“At least, I'm here," he responds in his usual nonchalant tone. The corner of his mouth moves. Almost.
I still don't understand how someone can not care, and still show so much care at the same time.
“How bad is it?”
He doesn't insult me by softening it.
"Bad enough that we can't wait long. The tumor's position is aggressive. Every episode like today's increases the risk of permanent damage before we even get to surgery."
I nod. I already knew. Bodies have a way of telling you things your mind refuses to accept.
"I need to ask you something," I say.
He waits.
"The research." I keep my voice low. "James’ research. Have you found anything?"
Something moves behind Lucian's eyes. He's quiet for a moment — the particular quiet of a man measuring how much to say.
"I'm still piecing it together," he says. "But yes. I'm finding things."
My chest tightens. Not the tumor. Something older. "And James? Any closer to…"
"Harold." He interrupts.
The way he says my name stops me.
"One thing at a time," he says, like a father trying to reassure his child. "Let me get you through surgery first."
I look at him. This boy — now a man — who showed up at my door ten years ago with a message from a ghost and the eyes of someone carrying more than his age should allow. I trusted him then. I trust him now. I don't have the luxury of doing otherwise.
"She can't know yet," I say, calmly, still catching my breath. "Eveline. Not until you're certain. She's been through enough. If we tell her, and it turns out to be…" I stop. Exhale. "Promise me."
Lucian holds my gaze. "I promise.”
- Writer
