CHAPTER 7
1538 Words
CHAPTER 7
Andrew didn’t sleep well.
That, unfortunately, was becoming a pattern.
He lay in bed staring at the ceiling long after the city lights had dimmed, his mind refusing to quiet. Numbers didn’t help. Work didn’t help. Even exhaustion didn’t do what it used to.
At some point, his body gave in before his thoughts did.
When he woke up, the sunlight was already pushing through the curtains.
Late.
He frowned slightly.
That wasn’t normal.
Andrew sat up slowly, a dull heaviness settling in his chest,not pain, not sharp, just… weight. His breathing felt tighter than usual, like something was pressing inward.
He ignored it.
Of course he did.
He swung his legs off the bed, steadying himself for just a second before standing fully.
Control.
Always control.
Nancy noticed immediately.
She was in the kitchen when he walked in, flipping something in a pan, her movements easy, familiar now.
“You’re late,” she said without turning.
Andrew reached for a glass. “I woke up when I woke up.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
Nancy turned this time, and paused.
Her expression changed.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
“You didn’t sleep.”
“I did.”
“Badly.”
Andrew poured water into the glass. “I’ve had worse.”
She stepped closer, studying him more carefully now. “You’re short of breath.”
“I’m standing.”
“Standing, really? That doesn’t mean you’re fine.”
“I didn’t say I was fine.”
Nancy blinked.
That was new.
“…Okay,” she said slowly. “That’s progress,an achievement if I may say, I guess .”
Andrew exhaled quietly, leaning slightly against the counter.
“I have a call in an hour,” he added.
Nancy didn’t move. “You’re not going.”
Andrew looked at her. “I am.”
“No.”
“Yes, you don’t have I say over what I do with my time.”
“Hmmm, I do, infact..
“You’re going to the hospital.”
Andrew’s expression hardened instantly. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
He set the glass down with a soft but deliberate clink. “I’m not spending my morning in a hospital because I didn’t sleep well.”
Nancy didn’t raise her voice.
Didn’t argue the way she usually did.
She just held his gaze.
“You’re going,” she said quietly, “because your body is telling you something’s wrong.”
“It’s not.”
“It is.”
“It’s manageable.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“You don’t.”
Silence stretched.
Then Nancy stepped closer.
Not confrontational. Just… certain.
“Andrew,” she said, softer now, “if it’s nothing, then we go, they check, and we leave. That’s it.”
“And if it’s not nothing?”
The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Nancy didn’t hesitate.
“Then we deal with it.”
We.
Andrew noticed that.
His jaw tightened slightly.
“I don’t need,,”
“I know,” she cut in gently. “You don’t need anything.”
“But you still have to go.”
Andrew stared at her.
Long.
Measured.
Then he looked away first.
“…Fine,” he said.
Nancy exhaled quietly.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t,” he replied. “This isn’t a victory.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
The drive down to the hospital was quiet, everyone in their own world.
The hospital felt exactly the same.
Too white.
Too clean.
Too real.
Andrew walked beside Nancy through the corridor, his posture straight, his expression unreadable, but his pace slower than usual.
Nancy didn’t comment on it.
She didn’t need to.
At the reception desk, a nurse looked up.
“Mr. Cross,” she said, immediately recognizing him. “Dr. Cole is expecting you.”
Of course he was.
Andrew glanced at Nancy briefly.
She didn’t react.
But there was a faint, knowing look in her eyes.
“You called ahead,” he said under his breath.
“I planned ahead,” she corrected.
He didn’t argue.
Dr. Ethan Cole didn’t smile when they walked in.
That was the first sign.
The second was the way his eyes moved over Andrew, quick, assessing, clinical.
“You don’t look good,” Ethan said.
Andrew sat down without invitation. “You always know how to start a conversation.”
Ethan ignored that, flipping through his tablet. “What changed?”
“Nothing.”
Nancy spoke instead. “He didn’t sleep. He’s more short of breath than usual.”
Andrew shot her a look.
Nancy ignored it.
Ethan nodded slightly. “Any chest pain?”
“No.”
“Dizziness?”
“No.”
“Cough worse?”
A pause.
“…Slightly,” Andrew admitted.
Ethan glanced up. “Slightly?”
“Manageable.”
Ethan leaned back, studying him. “That word again.”
“I like it.”
“I don’t.”
Nancy almost smiled.
Ethan stood. “We’ll run a few tests.”
Andrew frowned. “Unnecessary.”
“Humor me.”
“I don’t,”
“Andrew,” Ethan cut in, his tone firmer now. “You came here. Let me do my job.”
Then Andrew exhaled.
“…Fine.”
The tests took longer than Andrew liked.
Scans.Blood work.
Waiting.Always the waiting.
Nancy stayed.
Quietly.
She didn’t hover. Didn’t overwhelm him with questions. She just sat nearby, scrolling through her phone occasionally, glancing up every now and then.
Present.
Steady.
At one point, Andrew looked over at her.
“You don’t have to stay.”
Nancy didn’t look up. “I know.”
“Then why are you?”
She glanced at him briefly. “Because I want to be.”
Andrew looked away first.
When Ethan came back, his expression was… careful.
Not bad.
But not nothing.
Andrew noticed immediately.
“What is it?” he asked.
Ethan glanced briefly at Nancy, then back at him. “The cancer is progressing.”
Silence.
“We expected that,” Andrew said.
“Yes,” Ethan agreed. “But it’s going to affect your breathing more than before.”
Nancy’s posture stiffened slightly.
Andrew didn’t move.
“So?” he asked.
“So you need to slow down,” Ethan said. “Less stress. More rest. We adjust your medication.”
“I don’t have time to slow down.”
Ethan’s gaze sharpened. “You don’t have time not to.”
Few seconds passed by,
Then Andrew let out a quiet breath.
“…Fine,” he said.
Ethan studied him for a moment longer, then nodded.
“I’ll update your prescriptions.” Dr Ethan said.
“Okay, thanks”. Andrew said, has he stood up to leave the office, with Nancy following behind.
Outside the hospital, the air felt different.
Heavier.
Or maybe that was just him.
Nancy walked beside him, quieter than usual.
Andrew noticed.
“You’re thinking too much,” he said.Nancy glanced at him. “You’re not thinking enough.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is if you’re still planning to go back to work today.”
Andrew didn’t answer immediately.
“I have things to handle.”
Nancy stopped walking.
Andrew took a few more steps before realizing she wasn’t beside him anymore.
He turned.
Nancy met his gaze.
“No,” she said.
Andrew frowned slightly. “We’ve been over this.”
“No,” she repeated. “We haven’t. Not like this.”
“He said it’s getting worse.”
“I heard him.” Andrew responded.
“And you still want to go back to work?”
“Yes.”
Nancy shook her head slowly.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I’ve been told.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Exactly.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then Nancy stepped closer.
“Let’s go home,” she said quietly.
Andrew held her gaze.
Then..,.
“…Fine,” he said again.
That evening, the penthouse was quieter.
Andrew sat by the window, not working this time. Just watching the city.
Thinking.
Behind him, Nancy moved around more softly than usual.
No teasing.
No arguments.
Just presence.
Eventually, she walked over.
“Eat something,” she said gently. Pushing the plate of food towards him.
Andrew didn’t argue.
He took the plate.
Took a bite.
Swallowed.
“…It’s good,” he said.
Nancy smiled faintly. “I know.”
Then she sat across from him.
“You did good today,” she added.
Andrew glanced at her. “I went to a hospital.”
“For you, that’s progress.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
That night, Andrew went to bed earlier than usual.
Not because he wanted to.
Because his body demanded it.
Nancy noticed that too.
She turned off the lights quietly before leaving his room.
“Goodnight, Andrew.”
He didn’t respond immediately.
Then, softer than usual,
“…Goodnight, Nancy.”
And as the city dimmed once again, and sleep finally came easier than the night before,
Andrew Cross began to understand something he had spent his entire life avoiding.
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