Not Anymore

Chapter 13.

As soon as they left the room, two women burst through the door, eyes wide with panic as they scanned the area, searching for something—or someone—urgent. Their uneasy expressions were impossible to miss.

A nurse, busy tidying the hospital bed where Chris had been sleeping, noticed their frantic demeanor and turned to face them.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her brow furrowed with concern as she observed the urgency in their faces.

The two women were none other than Irene and her best friend, Jennifer.

"Excuse me, nurse, where is the patient who was in this room?" Irene's voice quivered slightly, her eyes flashing with anxiety as she took a step closer.

The nurse hesitated, taking a moment to collect her thoughts.

"I'm not exactly sure," she replied with a nonchalant tone, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. "I just came in to tidy up the bed. They might have been discharged."

"What? How can you say that?" Jennifer exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief. "The patient could barely move!"

The nurse shrugged, her expression indifferent. "I really don't know. Have you checked with the front desk?"

Irene, feeling her temper flare, snapped back. "Do you even know who I am?"

Her frustration was palpable, but before she could escalate the situation, someone from the other side of the room intervened. "Can you please keep it down? There are other patients who need their rest!"

Irene's anger boiled over as she nearly lunged at the nurse, but Jennifer quickly grasped her arm, pulling her back firmly.

"Let it go," Jenny urged, her grip a reminder to maintain composure amidst the turmoil. "She's not worth it."

With one last fierce glance at the nurse, who seemed utterly unfazed, Irene stormed out of the room, her heart racing with frustration.

"Crazy woman," the nurse muttered under her breath, taking a moment to roll her eyes. Little did she know how close she had come to creating a far bigger problem for herself.

Despite the fleeting nature of the encounter, a sense of unease lingered in the air as Jennifer led Irene away, both women feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on them. As the nurse returned to her work, she remained blissfully unaware of the emotional storm brewing just outside the room.

On the third floor of the hospital, in a spacious ward drenched in soft afternoon light, Chris lay on his back, propped up by a mound of pillows. Across from him, Ansh sat in a comfortable armchair, his posture relaxed yet attentive, an almost reverential air surrounding him. The quiet hum of the medical equipment provided a gentle backdrop to their conversation.

Chris's voice echoed faintly, coming and going like a whisper in the wind. Ansh remained silent, choosing instead to simply listen, absorbing every word that escaped his friend's lips.

"I've thought about it too, Ansh," Chris said slowly, his gaze distant. "I really have, and there's no one else to blame except myself. I brought this upon myself. This is just karma."

A muffled sigh escaped him, heavy with regret.

Ansh's expression shifted as he leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slowly.

"I'm glad you finally came to your senses," he muttered, the words tinged with frustration. "That woman is a lost cause."

"I know, Ansh, I know," Chris replied, a flicker of understanding crossing his face.

As the moments passed, Ansh began to express just how relieved and happy he was that his friend had finally seen the light, breaking free from the illusion of a love that had long since turned sour. The atmosphere in the room transformed as they reminisced about their lives, their laughter slowly blending with the quiet sounds of the hospital.

"Can you believe we've known each other this long?" Ansh asked, a grin spreading across his face. The realization hung in the air between them, solidifying the bond that had withstood the highs and lows of life. "From our days in kindergarten, to high school, and then even university, our paths have always intertwined."

Chris chuckled, the sound breaking through the heaviness of the moment.

"And here we are," he said, "still navigating this crazy life together."

But the laughter quickly morphed into a series of coughs that caught him off guard.

Ansh jolted forward, concern etching his features.

"Are you okay?" he asked, leaning at the edge of his seat, brows furrowing.

"Yep, I'm fine," Chris managed to say, offering a thumbs up despite the discomfort radiating through his body. "It's just this back that's killing me."

The words had barely left his lips when a fresh wave of laughter erupted between them, the absurdity of the situation not lost on either friend.

Their shared laughter echoed through the ward, drowning out the hospital's sterile environment for a fleeting moment. Chris felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly, grateful for this brief respite from pain. In that space, amid genuine laughter and easy camaraderie, both friends found solace in each other's presence. The bond between them ran deep—forged through years of shared experiences, late-night conversations, and unwavering support. It was a friendship that reaffirmed a simple truth: no matter what struggles life threw their way, they would always have one another.

Just then, a sharp knock on the door shattered the moment like glass. Ansh's smile didn't fade—it died. His face transformed instantly, warmth replaced by something cold and lethal. He stood up, movements no longer relaxed but coiled, predatory. The easy warmth that had filled the room moments before evaporated. When he yanked open the door, anger consumed him, flooding every muscle with hostile energy. His jaw locked tight enough to c***k teeth, and his eyes became slits of pure hostility as he scrutinized the newcomers.

"Who is it?" Chris called out, alarm creeping into his voice as he tried to see past Ansh's rigid, blocking frame.

Ansh didn't answer. The silence wasn't just ominous—it was weaponized.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Ansh's voice was a blade, each word slicing through the air with lethal precision. His gaze fixed on one individual among the newcomers, and the hatred radiating from him was almost physical. The silence that followed was suffocating, thick with old wounds and unfinished violence. His entire body had become a barrier, jaw clenched so hard it trembled, revealing not just distrust but active, seething hostility ready to explode.

Chris watched his friend's back, sensing the shift in atmosphere and feeling his own anxiety begin to rise.