Shadows & Desires

CHAPTER FOUR: The Visit

Zayn’s POV

I slid into the back seat of my car with my hands pressed tight against my chest. It lingered every time I tried to breathe, but this time, it dug harder, like it wasn't ready to let go. I closed my eyes to ease the pain, but it persisted. I pretended to adjust my jacket so Walter wouldn't notice me. He glanced at me one or two times, though.

Brooklyn’s face flashed in my memory, nudging me about whether I should’ve taken her along or not. But no! It was for her own good. She can't be found meddling with things in my world. It's too dangerous, too cruel for her little innocent face and heart. The way she stood in my office, hands shaking, pretending she wasn't scared of me. She looked like she wanted to burn the whole deal down with a single word, and yet she came. She signed. Something about her was different, but I can't wrap my fingers around it.

The car rolled forward through the city of Los Angeles; the lights streamlined and gleamed through the tinted glass. My phone buzzed again. Same number. Same message. I ignored it once, but I couldn't anymore. My thumb hovered around before I clicked on the sender.

“Mr. Macario, the results are in. We need to go over them sooner rather than later. Preferably tonight.” the message read.

I hesitated, letting out a warm breath from my nostrils. “I’ll be there.”

My jaw clenched together. I hated the way he said it. As if I didn't already know what the results would say.

The silence stretched. The sound of the engines hummed, pressing against my ears. I tilted my head back, closing my eyes. For a second there, I let myself feel the ache running through my chest, the uneven beat that never settled. The way I shoved it down, like I always did for years. Weakness has no place in my life. Not in front of Walter. Not in front of Brooklyn. Not in front of anyone.

“Change of plans,” I said finally. “Take me to St. Augustine’s now.”

“But what about your dinner with Mr. Vincent?” Walter asked.

“I will handle that afterward.” I fixed my tie and adjusted the way I sat.

“Understood,” Walter said.

We drove downtown, cutting through the streets, until the car pulled up in front of the private wing of the hospital.

Walter came down to open the door for me, but I waved him off.

“Wait here,” I commanded.

The elevator was quiet. Too quiet. I caught my reflection in the glass. I resembled a man preparing to go to war, not the routine consultation.

The elevator chimed, and my feet dragged me out.

Dr. Hayes was waiting when I stepped into his office. He had the same calm face and the same grey suit under the same white coat. He always dressed like he was always ready for a funeral. Maybe he thought he was doing me a favor.

“Mr. Macario,” he directed me to a seat behind his desk. “Glad you finally responded to my messages. I’ve been trying to reach you for, like, a week now.”

“Well, I’m not really much of a man who has spare time.” I bent my knees forward and sat.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

“But I don’t have too much time. Tell me the update.”

He slid a folder across the desk. The papers inside looked ordinary. Just numbers, graphs, and lines crossing where they shouldn't. I didn't touch them.

“Looks like you’re progressing,” Hayes said, simply, stripped with pity. That was the only reason I tolerated him. “The rhythm is unstoppable. More episodes will come. The pressure you’ve been feeling in your heart isn’t random.”

“I’m aware,” I said, my voice clear and sharp.

His eyes flicked up to mine, steady. “Your being aware doesn’t change what’s happening, nor does it change what’s going to happen to you. You need to slow down because stress is worsening it. Ignoring the treatment will also make it worse.”

Slow down? I almost laughed at the mention of that phrase. He said, "Slow down," as if my world would wait for me. As if Vincent would care. As if Brooklyn...no. She was just another complication; I shouldn't bring her into this.

“I should make this clear to you, Dr. Hayes. I don’t have time to slow down,” I stated.

“You don’t have the luxury not to. That's what you don't understand. You can't handle everything due to your condition. You have to slow down.”

The silence between us stretched, and the ticking of the wall clock grew stronger.

My gaze pressed harder on the folder, my chest tightening at the spot. I shut it and slid it back to him. “Once you have a better alternative to my condition, give me a call. And make sure it's not something that involves me sitting in bed while my company falls apart.”

He didn't even try arguing further. Maybe he knew better. Maybe he knew I wouldn't listen anyway.

I stood, towering over him. “If I collapse, you’ll be the first to know. Until then, keep your phone close.”

Hayes gave a short nod, but his eyes pressed on me as I left. But this time it wasn't with pity; it was with calculation. Like he was already measuring the odds for me.

The air outside blew colder than the air filled with antiseptics back there. Walter straightened near the car, his face numb and unreadable. He didn't ask any questions, and neither did I offer.

The engines ignited, and we were back on the road. My chest felt a little bit lighter than earlier, but only because I buried the weight deeper in me. That's all I've done my whole life. Bury the pain and hide it where no one will ever see.

My mother always said, “Show your weakness to the world and see how they’ll make you miserable.”

Her voice echoed in my head. The way we played ball together. Nostalgia hit me harder than the sharp pain in my chest.

A buzz from my phone jolted me from my reverie. My screen lit with a call again.

It was….