Chapter 3
The hospital medication worked wonders; by dawn, my temperature was back to normal. However, the doctor warned that such a high fever might return and suggested I stay for a few more days for observation.
Remi brought breakfast. "Have a bite; I'm not sure if it's your kind of thing."
I'm not typically picky about food, but Cillian always was, sticking to the same few choices repeatedly. Eggs and bacon sandwiches had lost their charm. I much preferred buttery croissants drizzled with honey and accompanied by fresh fruit. After being sick, the hunger hits hard, and I devoured quite a bit.
"Normally, Cillian says you're finicky with food, but today you're eating like there's no tomorrow."
He took a portion for himself and, after polishing off a few croissants, sipped his coffee and looked at me.
"I haven’t told him you’re here. If he asks, what should I say?"
So it's been an entire night, and Cillian hasn’t even bothered to check on his sick girlfriend.
"Just tell him you have no idea."
He frowned slightly, almost imperceptibly. "What do you mean by that?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. Holding on to something pointless is as good as chasing shadows."
"Cillian acts laid-back, but deep down, you’re all he thinks about."
I snorted. "Oh, sure. You've made your point; now, can you back it up with some evidence? Got anything solid?"
"I remember before..." he hesitated.
"Let's not dredge up the past. You can't live in it forever. Tell me what you see now."
Remi fell silent.
My phone buzzed; it was Cillian. I didn’t pick up. Soon, messages came in quick bursts.
[You’re not at home. Why aren’t you answering? [Where did you go? [Where are you? Have you vanished?]
I turned off the screen and placed the phone face down on the hospital bed. I thought my heart would race and ache like it used to, but surprisingly—nothing. The relief caught me off guard. So this is what it feels like to release yourself, just a moment, and everything changes.
One moment you love him so much you’d do anything, and the next, you can watch him deal with his own mess. People really are strange creatures.
Remi hesitated to speak. "He’s trying to find you..."
Just then, his phone rang too. He checked the caller ID, glanced at me, and quietly stepped outside to answer.
But I could still overhear.
"I don’t know; I went home last night. "Couldn't deal with their chaos anymore; your excuse let me escape early. "Did you all party until dawn again? Madelynn wasn’t at home? "I’m not trying to side against you, but you've crossed a line. She’s still running a fever..."
He finished the call and came back, releasing a deep sigh. "Well, I’ve fibbed to your friend for you. What's your next move?"
I pointed to a small suitcase. "Could you help me grab the tablet and charger? I've got an illustration to finish."
He obliged without a word, setting up the charger and refraining from further questions.
Cillian called again and sent a text, tossing in a threat.
[Why are you acting stuck-up? I just worked overtime and couldn’t be with you. Get back to me immediately, or don't blame me for the consequences!!!]
Three exclamation marks to emphasize his anger. In the past, I would never have left his messages hanging. No matter how resistant I felt, I believed the silent treatment wasn’t the way to resolve issues. Problems need to be talked through; communication must remain open.
But now, I’ve found that saying no feels incredibly freeing.