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The sterile scent of the VIP wing always felt heavier in the morning. Ameya pushed through the heavy door, balancing a small tray with two steaming mugs and a plate of fresh muffins. As she approached the bedside, she caught the tail end of Rico's hushed voice.
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The Sudden Silence
The moment the door clicked, Rico's eyes widened. He abruptly tapped the screen, ending the video call before Ameya could even cross the threshold.
"Who were you talking to?" Ameya asked, her voice light but her eyes observant as she set the tray on the bedside table.
Rico let out a dry, forced chuckle. "Just Michael. Business stuff, you know."
"Why did you hang up so fast?" She arched an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. "Are you talking secrets that I'm not supposed to know?"
Rico's smile turned awkward, his fingers tapping nervously against the silk sheets. "Nothing like that. Just... perfect timing. Is that coffee?"
Ameya handed him his mug without a word. Rico took a long, confident swallow, expecting the creamy blend he usually preferred. Instead, his face instantly contorted. The liquid was dark, thick, and punishingly bitter.
He choked back a cough, his throat tightening. "This... this is incredibly strong," he wheezed, looking at the dark brew with betrayal. "Do you have any muffins?"
Ameya was already mid-bite, chewing slowly on a golden-brown muffin. Rico reached his hand out, his palm open in a silent plea for a bit of sweetness to kill the acrid taste in his mouth.
"You don't usually like muffins with your coffee, Rico," Ameya mocked gently, pulling the plate just an inch out of his reach.
"But it's too strong," he insisted, his voice slightly desperate. "Give me one."
Ameya flashed a playful, devastatingly sharp smile. "But you love strong coffee. Did you forget that after the accident? You always said sugar was for the weak."
Rico swallowed hard, the bitterness lingering on his tongue like a lie. "Oh... right. But... still... I just want a bite."
He reached out again, but Ameya slapped his hand away gently, a soft thwack echoing in the quiet room. "Enjoy your coffee, Rico. It's exactly how you like it."
She leaned down, brushing her knuckles against his cheek with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Then, in an instant, her expression shifted—the warmth vanished, replaced by a cold, calculated neutrality.
"I have to go to the doctor's room to check your discharge papers," she said curtly. Before he could respond, she turned on her heel and swept out of the room.
The moment the door clicked shut, Rico scrambled out of bed. He rushed to the small ensuite sink and poured the black sludge down the drain with a look of pure disgust. His eyes darted back to the tray. One muffin remained. He grabbed it, took a massive bite, and closed his eyes as the sugar melted on his tongue.
"What happened to her today?" he muttered to himself, leaning against the counter. "Why did she say I like strong coffee? Has she actually forgotten my tastes...?"
He sighed, staring at his reflection in the mirror, unaware of the shadow by the door.
Ameya wasn't at the doctor's office. She was standing in the narrow gap of the slightly ajar door, watching him through the creek. She saw him dump the coffee; she saw the desperation with which he ate the sugar she knew he always loved.
A small, dangerous chuckle escaped her lips.
"How much longer can you act like you have memory loss?" she whispered to the empty hallway.
With a final, chilling smile, she turned and walked toward the doctor's office, her heels clicking rhythmically against the tile.
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The afternoon sun blazed through the large windows of the VIP suite, casting long, sharp shadows across the floor. Ameya walked in with a tray of light hospital food—steamed vegetables and soup—and placed it on the swivel table over Rico's bed.
Rico looked up at her, his expression softening into a hopeful pout. As she settled the tray, he leaned back against the pillows and opened his mouth expectantly, waiting for her to pick up the spoon.
Ameya offered a sweet, fleeting smile. Then, she turned her back and started organizing her bag. "Eat by yourself, Rico."
Rico's eyes popped open in total shock. "What? But... you're the one who always feeds me. You've been doing it since I got here!"
Ameya glanced over her shoulder, her voice cool and practical. "But you've recovered now. We're going to remove your stitches tomorrow. Tell me, is there any pain left in your stomach?"
Rico hesitated, his mind racing for a reason to keep her close. "Actually... it's a little better, but still..."
"Then you're perfectly fine," Ameya interrupted, her smile vanishing instantly. "Eat yourself."
She walked over to the couch and sat down, opening a magazine without another word. Rico sat there, staring at her in disbelief. He began to eat abruptly, shoveling the soup into his mouth with the disappointed face of a child who had been denied a treat. His eyes never left her, trying to decode the wall of ice she had built around herself.
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A few minutes later, Ameya's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, stood up, and walked out into the hallway to take the call.
Seeing his chance, Rico grabbed his own phone. A call from Michael was already coming through. He swiped to answer immediately.
"Hello?" Rico whispered.
"Hey, why did you hang up so fast earlier?" Michael asked on the other end.
Rico checked the door, seeing Ameya through the glass pane; she was talking on her phone a safe distance away. "Ameya came in. I had to."
"Did she find out?" Michael's voice turned serious.
"No," Rico said, his tone rising with a hint of panic. "But Michael, she isn't normal since this morning. She's acting... weird. Very weird."
"What do you mean?"
"Everything! The coffee, the food, the way she looks at me," Rico groaned.
Michael sighed over the line. "Actually, I don't get it either. Girls' psychology... it's harder to understand than a movie script. Wait, let me ask Jenna."
In another part of the city, Michael was at his fiancé Jenna's house. He walked into the kitchen where Jenna was busy cleaning vessels. He stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.
"You look beautiful today," Michael murmured.
Jenna's eyes narrowed playfully as she looked at him over her shoulder. "Do you want a favor, Michael?"
Michael chuckled. "I just said you were beautiful! But... since you mentioned it, I have a doubt. My friend... he can't understand his girlfriend's behavior lately. She's acting strange."
"Which friend?" Jenna asked, rinsing a plate.
"Ray. You know, the supporting actor in my new film," Michael lied smoothly.
He explained the situation—the coldness, the sudden changes in mood. Jenna stopped what she was doing and turned around, a knowing smirk on her face.
"Is this 'friend' actually Rico?" she asked, her voice dripping with suspicion. "What did he do to piss off my friend Ameya?"
Michael stunned for a second, then forced a laugh. "Not them! You're always thinking about Ameya."
Jenna pointed a dripping spoon at him. "Listen. A girl gets pissed easily if her partner lies to her or hides something. Tell your 'friend' to apologize to her before it gets worse."
Michael moved to the other side of the kitchen and spoke back into his phone. "Did you hear that, Rico?"
Rico, still on the hospital bed, nodded frantically. "But I didn't do anything wrong!"
"Since when exactly did she start acting like this?" Michael asked.
"After our video call," Rico realized, his heart skipping a beat.
"Bro..." Michael's voice dropped an octave. "Are you sure she didn't overhear our conversation?"
Rico's eyes widened to the size of saucers. The image of Ameya's cold smile flashed in his mind. "Did she?" he whispered, swallowing hard as a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. "Oh my god."
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To be Continued...
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