Chapter 2 – Bad News Comes in Waves
ROWAN >>
"What?!" I shouted, stumbling back a step. My hand was shaking so hard I almost dropped my phone. "What happened to him? How? What was he doing before he collapsed? Was he alone? Was someone there? Was it sudden?"
My words tumbled over each other like they were fighting to get out first.
"But he was fine when I left the house this morning!" I kept going, breathless. "He was even joking with me… what about my stepmother? And my stepsister? Where were they? Weren't they home? How come—?"
"Sir," the voice on the other end cut in sharply. "We called you because your name was listed as his emergency contact. So, are you going to come to the hospital and see your father or stand there asking me a hundred questions I can't answer? Please pick one."
I blinked fast, trying to come back to my senses. My mouth opened, but no words came at first. Then finally, I stammered, "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to— I'm just confused… and scared. I didn't know what to say."
The voice on the other side sighed. "We understand. But time is important. He's in CityCare General Hospital. Emergency ward. Come as soon as you can."
"Okay… thank you," I whispered. "Thank you so much. I'm coming right now."
I ended the call with my heart in my throat. I felt like I was choking on fear.
Dad…
He was the only family I had left.
He couldn't die. Not when I didn't even have a single thing to repay him for all the sacrifices he made.
My eyes stung, but I blinked back the tears.
But how the hell was I supposed to get to the hospital?
I was just fired. I had nothing on me. Not even a single coin.
I ran toward the road anyway. I didn't care how far it was—I had to get to him.
I started raising my hands at every car that passed. "Please, please stop," I whispered under my breath. "Just one person…"
Cars kept flying past me. Some slowed down to look at me and then sped off again. Others didn't even glance in my direction.
Ten minutes passed. Maybe more. My arms were tired. My heart was breaking. I was about to give up, when suddenly—a small blue car stopped a few feet ahead.
I blinked. Was it really stopping?
I ran to it before the driver could change their mind.
"Thank you!" I said as I bent forward to the open window. I didn't even let the man say anything. "Please, I need to get to CityCare General Hospital. It's urgent. Please. I'll do anything. I don't have money right now, but I swear I'm not a bad person—"
"Get in," the man said.
I froze. "You'll take me?"
He nodded. "Just get in."
"Thank you!" I shouted, bowing over and over before jumping into the seat like my life depended on it.
The second the door shut, the driver pulled off.
The ride felt like the longest trip I'd ever taken in my life. My leg wouldn't stop shaking. My hands were clenched in my lap.
I kept checking the road signs, wishing they would fly by faster.
Please don't let it be too late.
When we finally pulled up in front of the hospital, I didn't even wait for the car to stop completely. I jumped out.
"Thank you so much!" I called out to the driver, but I didn't wait for a reply. I ran.
I ran through the sliding doors like a madman, straight into the building.
"Where is my papa?!" I shouted. "Where is my papa?!"
People turned. Heads turned. Nurses, patients, visitors—all staring at me like I was some crazy person who had escaped from the psych ward.
But I didn't care.
I kept running through the hospital hallway, pulling open door after door.
"Papa?"
No.
"Papa?"
Still not him.
Then finally—I saw him.
He was lying in a hospital bed, pale and too still. His eyes were closed. His chest rose and fell slowly.
"Papa!" I shouted as I rushed inside. "Papa! Papa, it's me—Rowan!"
I ran straight to the bed and grabbed his hand. It was cold.
Tears poured down my face as I knelt beside him. "No, no, no… please don't leave me," I whispered. "You promised. You said we'd make it through everything together. You can't go now. You can't."
I sat on the edge of the bed, gripping his hand tightly.
Then I heard her.
"Didn't you see me and your sister?" my stepmother said behind me, her tone sharp and mocking. "And why are you acting like your father is already dead? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"
I turned my head slowly, blinking back the tears.
I saw her standing at the corner of the room with her daughter, arms folded like she was bored. Her tone, her eyes, the way she said everything—it made my blood boil.
I bit my tongue so hard it almost bled.
Because if I opened my mouth, I'd say something that might land me in jail. Or worse, make her cry in ways she wouldn't recover from.
I turned back to my dad and kept holding his hand, trying to feel warmth in his cold fingers.
But I couldn't ignore her completely.
"What did the doctor say?" I asked. "When did he collapse? What happened?"
She sighed loudly and rolled her eyes. "Do I look like a doctor to you? Why don't you wait and ask the real one when he gets here?"
Her voice dripped with disgust.
I clenched my jaw.
Why would my father ever fall for someone like this?
Before I could say anything else, the door burst open.
I turned, heart racing.
A man in a white coat stepped in with a folder in his hands.
"You must be Mr. Elian's son?" he asked with a gentle smile.
"Yes!" I said quickly, standing up. "Yes, I'm Rowan. Please, doctor. What's happening to my father? What's wrong with him?"
The doctor nodded and stepped forward. "These are the test results," he said, handing the file to my stepmother.
I stared as she took it and began reading, her face blank.
"What does it say?" I asked her, my voice cracking.
She didn't respond. Just kept flipping through the pages.
I lost patience.
I snatched the folder from her hands.
"Ugh. So rude," she muttered behind me.
But I didn't care. I opened the file and tried to read through the words. My hands shook. My eyes were blurry.
"Doctor… can you please explain what this means?" I asked finally, holding the paper out to him.
He nodded and stepped closer. "It's written there, but I'll explain. Your father has Stage 3 Pancreatic Cancer. It's aggressive… and it's spreading fast."
My heart dropped.
"Cancer…?" I whispered.
"Yes. And if we want any real chance of saving him," the doctor continued, "we need to operate within the week. After that, things will become very difficult."
"But…" I stepped back, my mind spinning. "Isn't there any other way? Can't we just… manage it? Give him medications? Something less… extreme?"
The doctor shook his head. "I'm afraid it's past the point of basic treatment. Surgery is the only option now. Without it, he doesn't have long."
I felt like the walls were closing in.
My knees nearly gave out, but I held onto the side of the bed.
"How much?" I whispered. "How much is the surgery?"
The doctor looked at me seriously.
"It's estimated at $92,000, including post-op care."
"What?, Ninety… what?"