Not sure yet

CHAPTER 2

Sunlight filtered through the thin hospital blinds and stirred me awake. I sat up slowly, letting the memories of the past week settle into place. Everything felt heavier now, almost too real. When I tried to get out of bed, I unknowingly tugged a bit hard at the needle in my hand.

Pain exploded.

Red dark liquid moved too fast in the place of the fluid connected to my hands.

I lost my balance and tilted backward. The crash that followed was loud enough to summon half the ward. Nurses and doctors rushed in, lifting me, steadying me, speaking in urgent voices as they checked tubes and lines.

Almost immediately, Kylie and my mother walked in.

“Sis, what’s going on?” Kylie asked frantically. “Are you okay? Do you feel pain anywhere?”

I hadn’t even answered before my mother burst into tears.

Dramatic, much?

A small chuckle escaped me before I could stop it.

My eyes drifted around the room, searching.

“Where’s Dad?”

Kylie hesitated. “He left for Asia this morning. He said it’s for some urgent business.”

Of course.

“It’s always about some urgent business or the other”.

Clinton Reyes—CEO of Reyes Corp, multibillionaire tycoon, and my father. He loved me, I knew that much. He was just never really present. Business always came first.

A few hours later, Kylie helped me freshen up. When I returned to my bed, Stefan was already there.

“You’re here?” I asked softly.

“Have you eaten yet?” he said instead. “I brought rice cakes, chicken soup with dumplings, and salad. It used to be your favorite. I don’t know if your taste has changed…”

He kept talking, but I already stopped listening.

He brought me food.

He remembered what my favorite dish was.

That was all that mattered.

I smiled at him. “I love it. Thank you.”

A cough sounded behind me.

“Oh—Kylie,” he said quickly. “How have you been?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You were so focused on my sister here you didn’t notice there were two of us here.”

“My apologies,” he said smoothly.

“Such a gentleman,” she replied, nudging me teasingly.

She helped me back onto the bed, then flashed me a mischievous smile I didn’t trust.

“Dad left some errands for me,” she said. “I’ll be back later. Stefan, I’ll trouble you to look after her for me.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” he replied easily.

She was gone before I could protest.

Stefan uncovered the dishes one by one and began feeding me gently.

“I can eat by myself,” I said.

He handed me the plate but still dabbed the edges of my mouth with his handkerchief when I spilled a little.

“I completed my preliminary tests yesterday,” he said quietly. “The psychological evaluation results should be out today.”

He dabbed my mouth again.

“You don’t have to do all this,” I said quickly. “You can still withdraw. It’s early. The donor list is long and—”

He placed his fingers over my lips, silencing me.

“I’m not going to withdraw.”

My chest tightened. “How can I ever repay you?”

“I’m not doing this so you’ll owe me,” he said calmly. “Walking away would be much worse.”

I stared at him, words failing me.

After I finished eating, exhaustion claimed me. I drifted in and out of sleep until a doctor arrived later that day. I overheard part of his conversation with Stefan.

“It’s not too late to withdraw,” the doctor said. “Given your medical history, this is a very significant decision.”

My senses snapped awake, but I kept my eyes closed.

Medical history?

Is he sick too?

The doctor left.

I opened my eyes immediately. “Medical history? Are you sick, Stefan? You really don’t have to do this.”

“I’m fine,” he said evenly. “Your surgery is scheduled for next week.”

The words hung in the air.

Next week.

By the end of the week, paperwork multiplied. Consent forms were signed. Dates were sealed. Decisions were made faster than I could fully process.

And for the first time since my diagnosis, I let myself believe that survival didn’t have to cost me anything.