Chapter 14: SILENT THREAT

Chapter 14: SILENT THREAT
The room finally emptied, and silence swallowed me whole. Everyone had left, and I was supposed to rest. My body longed for sleep, but just as I was about to close my eyes, my phone rang. The caller ID flashed across the screen—my parents.

For a moment, I reached for it, my finger hovering over the answer button. But something within me froze. I let the phone continue buzzing until it stopped. Why should I pick it up? I reminded myself bitterly. I got into this mess because of them… because of the life they forced me into.

The night dragged on, and reality hit me harder than ever—I had just spent a night in the hospital. Never in my wildest imagination did I think I’d end up here because of an infection. My life used to be normal, or at least I thought it was. But everything had changed so fast, and now I was fighting battles I never prepared for.

I tried to distract myself, pretending for a second that I was just another girl living a normal life. With effort, I pushed myself upright on the bed, though weakness tugged at every muscle. Just then, a soft, deliberate knock came from the door.

My heart skipped.

A shadow fell across the doorframe, and the shape—it looked exactly like Darius. My blood turned cold. Immediately, I pulled the thin hospital blanket up to cover myself, as though shielding my identity from whoever was standing there.

The door creaked open. My chest tightened.

But what happened next left me speechless.

“Let’s celebrate!!” a voice boomed.

I froze, my back pressed to the headboard, my heart slamming violently against my ribs.

As the figure stepped forward into the dim light, I screamed.

“Jesus! Jesus!! Jesus!!!”

I leapt off the bed, panic flooding me. But when my eyes adjusted properly, my fear dissolved into confusion. It wasn’t Darius—it was the female doctor, Dylan. She stood there, startled by my reaction.

My scream had been loud enough to draw others. Within seconds, several doctors rushed in, alarmed by the chaos. They stopped at the sight—me trembling at the corner of the room, and Dylan standing frozen in front of me.

I could almost hear the unspoken thoughts in their minds. They suspected something was wrong, maybe something inappropriate. If I didn’t explain, Dylan’s reputation could be destroyed right there.

So, I forced myself to speak, my voice shaky but clear enough.

“It… it was a dream,” I said quickly, my eyes darting nervously around the room. “My sister’s husband came to me asking for a celebration. Dylan wasn’t doing anything to me, believe me. It was just… a dream.”

The other doctors looked at me skeptically, but after a heavy pause, they nodded and quietly left the room. Dylan exhaled sharply, relief flickering in her eyes. She sank into a chair beside my bed, her composure cracking for the first time.

“Do you know you almost ruined my reputation?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly with fear.

I lowered my head. “Yeah… I know. That’s why I covered up for you.”

But I could tell from her expression that my explanation hadn’t erased her anger. She wasn’t satisfied, and she wasn’t at peace. After a long silence, she stood abruptly and left the room without another word.

Left alone, I whispered to myself, “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here… It wasn’t my fault.”

But the lingering question gnawed at me: Why would Darius appear in my dream asking for a celebration?

It wasn’t my birthday. It wasn’t his birthday. So what was he celebrating? And more importantly, how did he even know I was in this hospital? How did he know my room?

Unable to rest, I grabbed my phone and searched online. “Dreams about celebration's meaning.” The answer I found only confused me more—it said celebration dreams symbolize when something good is happening.

Something good? Could it mean… the HIV was gone?

My pulse quickened. I quickly called the doctors, desperate for an answer, but they reminded me I hadn’t started proper treatment yet. Nothing had changed. I sighed heavily, letting go of the thought.

Needing a distraction, I forced myself to eat a little. Afterwards, I decided to walk around the room, stretching my weak body. I walked from the bed to the door and back again, pacing slowly. But just as I reached the door the second time, I froze.

I saw my mom passing by.

Panicked, I dropped low to the floor, crouching so she wouldn’t notice me. My heart pounded as I heard footsteps stop near my room. My dad’s voice carried through the door.

“I’m sure this is Darius’ room,” he insisted.

“No, it isn’t,” my mom argued.

I held my breath as my dad’s hand turned the doorknob. The door creaked open slightly, and he leaned in, about to peer inside.

At that exact moment, Jenna’s voice called from down the hallway.

“Over here! Darius’ room is this way.”

My dad hesitated, then slowly shut the door and followed her voice. Relief washed over me like a wave.

“Thank God… that was too close,” I whispered, my voice trembling with fear.

I collapsed back onto the bed, exhaustion consuming me. Just then, my alarm went off—it was time for treatment.

A team of doctors entered with equipment. Without much explanation, they administered an injection. I hadn’t even asked what it was for. Soon after, drowsiness swept over me, and everything went dark.

When I finally opened my eyes again, I felt disoriented and dizzy.

“What happened?” I croaked, my throat dry.

One of the doctors smiled gently. “We needed to give you some treatment, so we had to make you sleep. It made things easier. But don’t worry, you’re fine now.”

They left shortly after, leaving me groggy but awake. I tried nibbling on something to regain my strength. That was when Dylan walked back into the room.

This time, she wasn’t cold or angry. She moved closer, sat down beside me, and helped me adjust my food tray.

“Ma’am,” I began softly, “can I ask you something?”

She glanced at me. “Sure. But first, finish eating.”

I smiled faintly. She thought I wanted to ask about the HIV results.

“No, don’t worry—it’s not what you think,” I said quietly.

Her eyebrows lifted, but she nodded. “Okay.”

“Ma,” I continued, my voice low and uncertain, “I haven’t seen you around much. Are you truly a staff member here, or…?”

She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “I’m not going to say I’m not staff, but… I’m actually the CEO of this hospital.”

My eyes widened. “You’re the CEO?”

She chuckled softly. “Yes. And I also brought some news for you.”

Her tone changed—it became colder, weaker, almost fragile. My chest tightened.

“Go on…” I urged.

She took a deep breath. “I tested Mr. Jack. And to my greatest shock… he is HIV positive.”

The words struck me like lightning.

“WHAT?!” I screamed, my body jerking forward. “Jack…?”

I tried to rush out of the bed to find him, but Dylan’s hand gripped my arm, stopping me.

“Wait,” she said firmly.

Her hesitation terrified me. She looked like she was holding back something even worse.

“Dylan, what is it?” I demanded.

Her lips trembled before the words finally spilled.

“We lost him…” she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks.

My breath hitched. “Lost… who?”

She looked me in the eyes. “We’re sorry. Mr. Jack is no more.”

And then she left the room, her sobs trailing faintly down the hallway.

I sat frozen, numbness spreading through me like poison.

Jack… dead?

“How could he die so soon? After… after giving me HIV? How is that even possible?” My voice cracked into the emptiness.

The room fell silent, heavier than a
graveyard. The weight of his death pressed on me like an invisible hand, choking me.

For the first time, I felt truly, terrifyingly alone.