A week had passed since I returned to school, and surprisingly, a lot had changed.
People who used to ignore me were now trying to talk to me. Some invited me to study groups, cafés, parties, even just to hang out during lunch. I turned down most of them. I wasn't ready. I still didn't feel comfortable around them.
And besides, I couldn't stop thinking about Ezekiel.
I hadn't forgotten what he did for me. He saved my life without hesitation, without expecting anything in return. Every time I looked in the mirror and saw the new me, I remembered that its all thanks to him.
I wanted to thank him properly, not just with words. I wanted to give him something. Something meaningful. A gift, maybe.
But there was one problem.
Ezekiel was practically a ghost.
No social media. No online presence. No listed address. No friends I could ask.
"Maybe I need a different approach…"
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. The light buzzed softly above me. My room was quiet, save for the hum of my laptop fan.
Then it hit me.
His mother!
According to some of the articles I had read, Ezekiel's father passed away years ago, but his mother was still alive. She had been mentioned briefly in connection to that infamous incident when he was twelve, the one that twisted his reputation into something cruel.
If I couldn't find Ezekiel himself, maybe I could find her.
I sat up straight and opened my laptop again. Fingers flying across the keyboard, I started digging.
It took all night, multiple rabbit holes, dead ends, and a lot of stubborn clicking, but eventually, I found something.
Rebecca Solace.
Currently admitted at Serenity Hospital.
My chest tightened. Was she… sick?
Maybe I should visit her. Bring a peace offering like flowers, fruit, or something nice.
That Sunday morning, I woke up early, went to the market, and carefully picked out a basket of fresh fruit and soft-colored flowers. Something gentle and respectful.
I arrived at Serenity Hospital around 10 AM and approached the front desk.
"Excuse me, can I ask what room Rebecca Solace is in?"
The nurse tapped on her keyboard, scanning the screen.
"Rebecca Solace? One moment…"
She nodded. "Room 178."
"Thank you."
I took a deep breath, walked down the hallway, and stood in front of her door.
I knocked.
"Come in," came a soft voice from inside.
I entered.
The room was quiet, filled with the scent of disinfectant and wildflowers. A woman sat propped up in the hospital bed, looking to be in her late 40s. Her frame was thin, and the paleness of her skin hinted she was sick, but her eyes were warm, and her expression even warmer.
Like a mother's.
"Hello, dear,"
she said gently.
"What brings you here?"
I blinked, startled for a moment. I had been staring.
"Ah, sorry!" I stammered.
"My name is Viola. I… I just wanted to thank your son. For saving my life."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"My son saved you?"
"Yes. During the monster attack at school… I was about to die. He saved me. I've been trying to find him ever since, but he's impossible to reach. That's when I found out about you."
She looked at me for a long moment. Her lips trembled faintly.
"You couldn't find him because of me,"
she said, her voice lowering.
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
She sighed.
"He doesn't come home anymore. He visits me when he can, but not often. He's always busy… working. Subjugating dungeons. Hunting monsters. Doing whatever it takes to earn money."
My eyes widened.
"For what?"
"For me,"
she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I have lung cancer. The treatment is expensive, and Ezekiel… he dropped out of school when he awakened at seventeen. Since then, he's pushed himself day after day, just to keep me alive."
I felt my throat tighten.
"I told him to stop. Told him to let me go and live his life. But he wouldn't listen."
Her eyes filled with tears, but she smiled faintly.
"You know… you're the first person who's come here to thank him. Everyone else who shows up only wants to find him and insult him."
She looked down.
"I may be stuck in here, but these walls are thin. I hear what people say about my son."
I swallowed hard.
"Thank you, Viola,"
she said quietly.
"Thank you for seeing him."
That wasn't fair.
I came here to thank her and her son, but she was the one thanking me. And for some reason, that made my chest ache.
We talked for a while longer. She told me stories from when Ezekiel was younger, how quiet he was, how kind. How he never let her carry anything heavy, even as a little boy.
When the afternoon sun began to sink behind the windows, I stood.
"I should go now," I said softly.
Before leaving, I placed a letter on her bedside table, telling her to give it to Ezekiel when he comes back. I had written it while we talked, it contained my thanks, my admiration, my regret that I couldn't say it to him directly.
She held it gently, like it was something precious.
I said goodbye, and she smiled warmly at me one last time.
But before I left the hospital…
I did something.