“How is Laura’s leg?” Cecilia inquired gently.
“She’s on the mend. She’ll be back on her feet in a few months,”
Peter replied.
Cecilia gave a slight nod.
“Could you get her a gift for me later?
A toy or something. Just… don’t let her know it’s from me.”
Peter looked conflicted.
Over the years, he had seen the ebb and flow of right and wrong, and he wondered if he should have refrained from calling Mark that day.
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Their wait felt interminable.
Finally, the door to the examination room swung open, and the doctor stepped out.
“He’s got acute pneumonia. It could be mild or severe.
You need to get him admitted right away.”
Peter immediately went to make the necessary arrangements.
Soon after, Mark was transferred to a VIP room.
After prescribing the necessary medication, a nurse started an IV for Mark. Spotting Cecilia, she advised, “Monitor him closely over the next 48 hours. If his fever exceeds 39 degrees, alert us immediately.”
Cecilia acknowledged with a nod.
Once the nurse set up a heart monitor for Mark and exited, Cecilia took a seat beside him, tenderly smoothing out the lines on his forehead.
“Why do you keep putting me through this?” Cecilia’s voice quivered.
Mark, though feverish, seemed to recognize her voice. He tried to focus, his eyes settling on a hazy figure.
It was Cecilia.
In a raspy voice, he questioned, “Are you shedding tears for me?”
“No,” she whispered.
Mark, weariness permeating every fiber of his being, slowly reached out to touch her hand.
“You’ve changed. You used to be so candid and vibrant.”