Chapter 3
1326 Words
After Brook left, I got up and shut the door. Leaning against it, I let out a sigh. Taking a look around my small but functional room, I realized that I could live in this apartment for the rest of my life. It's much more affordable.
I then returned to the bed and picked up my resumes, as I was searching for a second job to increase my income. I hadn't told Brook about it because I knew he wouldn't approve. My family needs more money, so I need to find a way to earn more.
As I sat there with my resumes in hand, a sudden echo of Brook's voice filled my ears, reminding me to be selfish for once. But just as quickly, my mom's voice replaced his, warning me that if I didn't buy Nica a new phone, I would never see them again. The weight of their words hung heavy in my mind, adding to the pressure of needing to earn more money.
I lay down on my back, staring up at the ceiling, and took a deep breath. The weight of my situation hit me, and tears began to stream down my face. The heaviness in my heart combined with a sudden headache overwhelmed me.
After dozing off, I was abruptly awakened by the sound of my phone ringing.
Riiiiinnnng riiinnngggg.......
I groggily reached for my phone, my head throbbing with a headache, to see who was calling. It turned out to be Nica!
"What's up?" I asked, still lying in bed with my eyes closed, trying to ease the pain in my head.
"Hey, you're gonna buy me a new phone, right? I called to let you know what kind of phone I want," she said, sounding as if she didn't really care about my well-being.
"I'll get you a phone that fits within my budget. But I'm afraid my salary for the month won't be enough," I replied.
"I want the iPhone 15 Pro Max, brand new, and in pink," she demanded.
"iPhone 15? Nica, I can't afford that," I said, standing up in disbelief.
"I'm gonna tell Mom!" she said.
"Nica... please understand that my money isn't just for your wants. I have to budget it so I can survive," I explained.
"I don't care! Buy it or I'm telling Mom!" Then she hung up.
"Nic... Nica? Hello?" I called out, hoping for a response, but there was nothing. I checked the phone and realized that it had been disconnected.
Feeling hurt by how Nica had treated me, my heart ached. I couldn't contain my emotions any longer, so I screamed at the top of my lungs. I buried my face in the pillow, muffling the sound so that no one could hear me.
"Aaaaaaaahh!!!!!!!!!"
After screaming, I found myself sobbing, trying to catch my breath. It was the only way I could release the pain I was feeling. I didn't have the courage to confront my family about how they were treating me. I kept it all to myself, bottling up my emotions. I didn't want anyone to know how I truly felt because I feared they would just say the same thing: "Prioritize yourself this time."
How could I possibly prioritize myself when my sole motivation to strive for more came from supporting my family? I constantly reassured myself that this was my life's purpose - to be there for them and provide the support they needed.
The thought of never seeing my family again consumed me, making it seem impossible to prioritize myself. They were my entire world, and I couldn't fathom a life without them. At times, I even resorted to hurting myself, hoping that it would snap me out of the illusion I was trapped in and allow me to see things from a different perspective, just like others could.
But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Every time I considered cutting ties with my family, a sense of sadness and despair washed over me. It left me questioning what my purpose would be without them. What would come next in my life? Did I need to chase after material possessions and fulfill all my desires? Did I need to travel the world in search of something more? But deep down, I knew that wasn't truly what I wanted.
I found contentment and acceptance in the way my life was. I never complained to my family, but there were moments when I would break down, feeling overwhelmed and vulnerable, especially when I was alone in my apartment.
It really bothered me when people would tell me to stop supporting my family. I absolutely hated it when others expressed hatred towards my family. It deeply upset me when someone would speak negatively about them. My family meant the world to me, and it was incredibly difficult to hear them being talked about in a bad way.
But that was all before I received the devastating news that I had cancer and only had three months left to live. I made the difficult decision not to tell my family or anyone I knew about my diagnosis.
"Three months?" I asked the doctor, my voice trembling with disbelief.
"I'm so sorry, Ms. Shona," she apologized sincerely.
"H...how? I mean... three months? Is this some kind of joke?" I stammered, struggling to comprehend the gravity of the situation.
"The results are very clear... Do you maybe want to tell your family?" she suggested.
"I... I... umm... I need to go to the restroom," I stammered, feeling overwhelmed by the news. I quickly excused myself from the ward and left, needing a moment alone to process everything.
The doctor and nurses let me go because they knew how heavy that news were.
I hurried to the restroom and entered an unoccupied cubicle, locking the door behind me. Overwhelmed by anxiety and panic, I began shaking my hands and shaking my head, trying to regain some sense of control. In my desperation, I even resorted to hurting myself, hoping that this was all just a terrible dream and that I needed to wake up from it.
As I pinched my skin, tears started to stream down my face, the painful reality sinking in. It was all too real. Everything I had heard from the doctor, the diagnosis, the limited time left—it was all a harsh truth that I couldn't escape.
I couldn't hold myself up any longer. My knees buckled, and I dropped to the floor, overcome with emotion. Tears streamed down my face as I cried uncontrollably. It was all so hard to believe.
One month ago, as I was climbing the stairs to my apartment, I suddenly felt dizzy and nauseous. The pain in my head became unbearable, making it difficult to even take a step. I tried to wait for the dizziness to pass, but the pain persisted. As I attempted to continue climbing, I lost my balance and ended up falling down the stairs.
I woke up in the hospital, feeling disoriented and confused about why I was there. Moments later, the doctor entered the room. I noticed that there were no wires attached to my body, and I was still fully clothed, lying on the bed.
"Why am I here?" I asked, trying to make sense of the situation.
"Your neighbor found you unconscious on the ground and brought you here," the doctor explained.
"What happened?" I inquired, starting to sit up in bed.
"Ma'am, please lay still," the nurse said.
"Let her sit up," the doctor instructed, and the nurses helped me into a sitting position. I felt a bit dizzy, but it was manageable.
"We conducted some tests to determine the cause of your loss of consciousness, and..." the doctor hesitated, her voice filled with concern.
"And?" I asked anxiously, my heart pounding.
"You have cancer," she finally revealed.
"What?!" I exclaimed, shocked and overwhelmed by the unexpected news.
- Writer
