Chapter 3 The Man Who Vanished
His voice was no longer weak. It was cold. Sharp. Controlled.
She turned to face him—and realized again that this man was not ordinary.
She raised her eyebrows slightly, waiting.
“Are you the one who saved me last night?” he asked.
Olive froze. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to claim something so heavy.
He didn’t wait for her answer.
“Thank you.”
She became speechless. Then she smiled softly.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said. “Get some rest.”
And with that, Olive quietly left the room.
Outside the room, Olive stopped walking.
She frowned slightly.
I never asked his name.
It felt strange—not knowing the name of someone who had looked at her with such cold eyes and said thank you like it meant more than words. At least she could have remembered his name. At least she could have known who he was.
She turned her head, looking back at the door of Room 302.
For a moment, she thought about going back in.
But then she shook her head.
Not now. He needs rest. That’s what matters.
She took a deep breath, turned away, and continued walking—telling herself she would ask his name another time.
The next day came quietly.
Olive rode the bus to the hospital, her head resting against the window. Earphones hung from her ears, soft music playing as her eyes stayed closed, her body still tired from everything.
She only opened her eyes when she heard the driver announce, “Next stop—Holand Station.”
That was the nearest stop to Dominic Verci Hospital.
After a five-minute walk, Olive clocked in right on time. As she entered the lobby, she noticed a group of co-nurses standing together, murmuring excitedly.
She slowed her steps when she heard a familiar topic.
“They said the man rushed to the ER the other night was a big-time,” one nurse whispered.
“Really?” another gasped. “I need to see him. Maybe he can make me rich so I won’t have to suffer in this job anymore,” she said with excitement.
The first nurse sighed. “That’s the problem. He already left—with bodyguards. No notice, nothing. Dr. Mateo only saw it on the CCTV and got worried.”
“He left?” Olive suddenly said.
They all jumped, shocked that she had heard them. One of them nodded slowly.
Olive didn’t say another word. She turned and hurried down the hallway, her heart beating strangely fast.
She had planned to ask his name today.
Now he was gone.
She pushed open the door to Room 302.
Inside, a nurse was already cleaning the bed. She turned, startled by the sudden door opening. When she saw Olive’s face—like someone searching—she spoke gently.
“He already left,” the nurse said. “Just like that.”
“When?” Olive asked quietly. She didn’t understand why it felt like someone had left her behind—when he was only a stranger.
“Based on the CCTV, around 1 a.m.”
“He hasn’t fully recovered yet,” Olive said, worry slipping into her voice.
The nurse nodded but sighed in annoyance. “People like that always leave without telling the doctor. Then, when something happens to them, they blame the hospital.”
Olive said nothing.
She just looked at the empty bed—wondering who he really was… and why she suddenly wished she had asked his name.
Olive left the room with her head low, her chest feeling strangely heavy. Sadness mixed with worry in a way she didn’t fully understand. She shook her head, forcing the thoughts away.
He’s just a patient. A stranger. People like him come and go all the time. They pass through my life and disappear.
She told herself not to think about him anymore.
As she walked toward Dr. Mathilda’s office to ask which area she should check today, she wasn’t paying enough attention. She bumped into someone.
Papers fell.
“I’m so sorry!” Olive said quickly, bending down to pick them up. “I’m really sorry—”
When she lifted her head, she froze.
Dr. Mateo stood in front of her, glasses slightly lowered, records in his hand.
“It’s okay,” he said calmly. “Just be more careful next time. You might bump into a patient instead.” His tone was half-joking, half-serious.
“I’m really sorry, doctor,” Olive said again.
She stepped away, embarrassed.
“Olive,” Dr. Mateo suddenly called.
She turned, eyebrows raised, already expecting to be scolded.
Dr. Mateo didn’t speak right away. He cleared his throat. “Did you visit the patient in Room 302 yesterday?” he asked. “What did you tell him?”
Olive blinked. “D-Doctor?” she stammered, unsure if she heard him right.
Instead of repeating the question, Dr. Mateo’s voice turned serious. “Come to my office after your rounds. I need to talk to you about something.”
Her heart skipped.
“Yes, doctor,” she said quietly, nodding.
And as she walked away, a strange nervous feeling settled in her chest.
As Olive walked down the hallway, she passed the same nurses she had overheard earlier talking about the man. They looked at her—then at each other—and started whispering again. Their eyes followed her, filled with annoyance and judgment.
Just don’t mind them, Olive told herself. Maybe they’re not even talking about me. I’m just assuming.