Entangled
1537 Words
The passage of time since Lucas last saw the vulnerable side of me has been a quiet, unsettling weight.
It is infuriating that he hasn’t shown up or visited once during my confinement in the hospital. I tell myself I must have scared him off; perhaps he decided I am too complicated to handle and chose to flee before I could drag him into my chaos.
People are rarely kind to those struggling with mental health, and I suspect Lucas lacks the capacity to understand or accept it.
I should not dwell on this—he is just a man I met on a snowy night, a stranger who has no right to affect me like this.
Weeks have blurred into a cycle of hospital shifts, and I have been so consumed by my duties that I nearly missed a milestone in my life.
It would have slipped through the cracks entirely if Raphael hadn't intervened.
My phone buzzes during rounds, and I duck behind the fire exit door to take the call.
"Hey, brat!" Raphael’s voice is sharp the moment I answer. "I think you’re forgetting something. It's your Nana's 65th birthday, didn't you remember?"
I freeze. The date hits me like a physical blow.
"F*ck! It’s the 10th of the month. I completely lost track of time." I massage my nape, trying to soothe the tension knotting in my shoulders.
"How on earth could you remember, Camila?" Raphael scoffs. "You haven’t been home for five straight days. You’ve been living in the hospital; you must look like a walking zombie."
"Haha, funny," I retort. "I’m still damn gorgeous even with a sleep deficit, and you know it."
"Are you even functioning?" He begins to mock my state, forcing me to shift into professional defense mode.
"Of course I am," I say, my tone sharp with pride. "I am highly effective, efficient, and reliable. I work beautifully under pressure, and nothing distracts me from my medical duty."
"Yeah, right. Ms. Clinical Excellence Awardee." He mentions the accolade I’m set to receive this coming weekend, his voice dripping with irony.
"Wait—how do you know about that?" My curiosity overrides my exhaustion. "Please, tell me!"
"The hospital director called Mom to invite her to the ceremony. We wouldn't have known otherwise."
The disappointment in his voice is heavy, and I cringe.
"My bad. I’m sorry. I was supposed to announce the news when I got home, but you discovered it before I could tell you myself." I keep my fingers crossed, praying he lets it slide.
I can’t afford to ruin his mood; I need him to arrange the dinner for Nana Eloisa while I’m on duty.
"Why do I feel like something is off about you today?" he muses. "You’re not the Camila I know who argues a lot. Perhaps... you need something from me?"
I laugh, a genuine, tired sound. "Why are you so smart, Mr. Raphael Evans? You know me too well."
"Seriously, Camila? You’re only just realizing that? I raised you. I’m the shadow in the darkness lurking to protect you. I know when you’re toying with me for your own benefit."
I surrender. "Fine. My trick is discovered. Please, reserve a seat at Nana’s favorite Italian restaurant downtown, buy her an expensive handbag, and keep her entertained while I’m on my way. I’ll be a little late, but I promise to arrive by 7:00 PM. Everything is on my tab."
"Woah, you are quite generous today, Dr. Camila," he teases.
"Anything for you and Nana," I say, my voice cracking with sudden, raw emotion. "This is nothing compared to what you’ve given me over the last 15 years."
"We’re family, Camila. We love you even without these precious things."
"I know," I whisper.
"Can you make it alone?" he asks. "We can pick you up after work."
"I can manage, Raphael. I need to start protecting myself."
We end the call with a deal in place. For all his cold, handsome indifference, Raphael has the softest heart I know. I spend the rest of my shift in the pediatric ward, meticulously treating children with heart defects, until my time finally runs out. I have to move fast if I’m going to make the dinner.
"Dr. Fuentes!"
I’m in the lobby, halfway out the door, when the call stops me dead. My lips part, and my breath hitches. A face I haven’t seen in weeks stands before me.
"How have you been lately, Dr. Camila Fuentes?" Lucas walks toward me with a sweetness that makes my heart gallop. He stops just inches away, closing the gap until I can feel his breath.
(Am I dreaming?) My sense of reality wavers, but his warm touch on my cheek pulls me back. He’s shining with an intensity I don't know how to read. "I’m glad I found you. I was going to look for you in the ER. Are you heading home?"
My anxiety flares, the memory of our last encounter crashing back. I can’t meet his eyes. "What brings you here? Do you... do you need anything in the hospital?" My voice cracks, and I tuck my fingers behind my back.
He moves an inch closer, his scent enveloping me. "Like I said, I missed you, Camila." My heart skips a beat.
"You missed me? Why?" I try to walk away, but he appears before me again, blocking my path.
"What is so confusing about missing the person who stayed with me and saved my life? I owe you, Camila. I want to personally thank you and treat you to a nice meal. Are you busy?" He stands with his arms folded, waiting.
(Oh. That’s it.) The crushing disappointment is instant. My face turns gloomy. (You’re an i***t, Camila. Stop overthinking.) I brush past him, my mood souring into childish irritation. "Please move aside. I have somewhere to be. And you don't owe me anything—it was part of my job!"
He looks stunned, his expression shifting to disbelief as he jogs to keep up with my pace. "What is wrong with you? Why are you being so grumpy?" He pleads for me to stop, and finally, my feet halt.
I look back. "Seriously? Grumpy? Me?" My professional composure is failing.
"This is nonsense. I’m leaving, bye!" I don't look back as I storm out of the hospital exit.
In the basement parking lot, I walk slowly toward my car, searching my bag for my keys.
They slip from my fingers, clattering onto the concrete. As I bend down to retrieve them, a heavy cloth is slammed over my face. I realize instantly that I am in deep trouble.
Panic sets in, and my fight-or-flight response kicks into overdrive. However, the pungent, chemical stench of the knockout drug hits my senses, weakening my limbs. No matter how hard I struggle to resist the hold, my body betrays me.
Then, a command rings out from the distance. "Let go of her!"
It isn't Raphael’s voice, but the relief is electric. My captor drops me, turning to face his challenger.
It’s Lucas.
They face off, armed like animals in the dim light—the man with an army knife, and Lucas with four-fingered brass knuckle claws. They collide in a flurry of violence, and I watch, petrified.
"I didn't expect you to be her guardian," the man snarls, recognizing Lucas. "You know you can't protect her from the Alejandros, do you?"
"It’s none of your f*cking business if I get involved," Lucas roars. "If you think you can't be stopped, try me, you bastard!"
He attacks, swiping the claw across the man’s face, but the villain doesn't flinch. I am amazed at Lucas’s skill, yet utterly confused by the threat. The Alejandros? Who are they?
My vision begins to blur, but I refuse to lose consciousness. I dig my fingernails into my skin, the sharp pain forcing me awake. I realize Lucas is at a disadvantage against his opponent.
Still groggy, I scramble to my car and grab a baseball bat from the interior. I rush back and hit the man hard on his legs and ribs.
"You son of a b***h!" I scream, hitting him again and again with every ounce of my gathered strength. The man loses his balance, giving Lucas the opening to deliver a final, devastating blow to his face that knocks him out cold.
Minutes later, hospital security arrives to take the abductor into custody. I finally heave a sigh of relief.
"Are you hurt, Camila?" Lucas runs to check on me, but I can only stare at him with deep suspicion and confusion.
"Are you hurt anywhere?" he asks again. I can no longer hold it in.
"Who are you, really?" I demand. "My life has been at the brink of danger ever since we crossed paths. Tell me—who are you, and who are the Alejandros?"
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