[File 003 : Tough Love]
Charlotte and Dr. Richards left the office. They walked straight to Charlotte's son's hospital room.
Their shoes squeaked on the polished floor with each step.
Dr. Richards eased the door open. The hinges creaked. A thin sliver of light spilled into the room.
Charlotte hesitated. A heartbeat. Then she followed him inside.
Michael reclined on the hospital bed, one leg bent beneath him.
He flipped slowly through a fashion magazine. His eyes darted over the glossy pages.
He wore a white hospital gown. Loose at the shoulders. Stiff. Cool against his skin after hours of wear.
A couple of curls had escaped his neat bun, falling softly against his neck.
Dr. Richards smiled. "Hey, Michael!"
Michael lowered the magazine, hiding most of his face. Soft, high cheekbones. A gentle jaw.
His grin spread wide. Straight, shiny teeth. A nurse passing by paused, glancing twice.
"Hi Doc!"
"You look good!"
The doctor closed the door behind him.
"That's 'cause I am!"
Charlotte chuckled.
Dr. Richards' lips twitched into a smile.
Their eyes met for a brief second. Then both looked away.
"My daughter is like, a massive fan of yours!"
"She better be! I'm awesome!"
Dr. Richards' lips quirked. Charlotte's lips curved into a restrained grin.
Dr. Richards rested a hand on Charlotte's back. She felt its warmth through her shirt—just for a second.
"Alright, Mrs. Tompson… I'll leave you two to it!"
"Thanks, Doc!"
"Anytime!"
Dr. Richards stepped out.
The room grew quiet.
Charlotte slid a chair close to Michael's bed. The legs scraped across the floor. Her shoulders loosened as she lowered herself.
The hum of the aircon and distant footsteps floated in from the hallway—the only sound. Their eyes met, holding a brief, unspoken conversation.
"Hey son."
"Mom."
"How you feeling?"
"I'm okay."
"Physically, yeah… I can see the progress, and I'm happy."
Charlotte tapped her temple, tilting her head.
"But up here?"
Her fingers pressed against her forehead.
"I mean… how are you holding up, really?"
"Wow, that's a first."
He leaned back slightly. Voice low. Teasing.
"Michael!"
Charlotte's sharp tone made him sigh. He closed the magazine with a thump. Swung his legs off the bed, still holding it.
"I'm fine, Mom. You don't have to worry."
A smirk tugged at his lips.
"You never do anyway! "
The bedsheets shifted as he let his legs drop. He walked to the table. Put the magazine down. Picked up the water jug and poured into the empty glass.
The liquid sloshed softly, cool and clear.
The soft hospital glow kissed his warm, medium-brown skin. It almost glowed—a shade lighter than expected.
His round brown eyes mirrored Charlotte's. Framed by long, curling lashes.
"Michael, I get exactly how you feel. Believe me, I do. Sometimes it probably seems like I'm cold…"
"She said cold!"
He took a slow sip. The cool water slid smoothly down his throat.
Charlotte continued, "…and sometimes I'm tough on you!"
"All the time. Not sometimes."
The glass hit the table with a clink. Leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest.
"Michael Look, the thing is you're seeing all of this the wrong way. You're the heir to Tompson Industries. Your future is way too big for…"
"You see, that's the problem with us, Mom. I'm your son, not your damn project!"
She stayed silent for a moment.
"Well, son… looks like you're not mature enough yet to understand some things, and I get it — you're still growing up. But time isn't on your side, baby. If you need time to grow up, don't take too long, 'cause you don't have much of it."
Michael ran his tongue along his lower lip. Gave a sarcastic nod.
"So let me ask you… what happened with you and Stacey?"
Michael shut his mouth tight. Eyes glistened—tears building, but never falling. Thin pink lips trembled slightly, then pressed together hard.
"I don't wanna talk about it."
"Michael, what do you wanna talk about then? Aren't you the one who's always complaining that I never give you time, never pay attention, never just sit down and actually get to know you? Well, this is me doing that right now. Can't you at least give me a chance?"
Michael let out a loud sigh. Rubbed his eyes hard. Turned back and grabbed the glass of water from the table once more.
"Just take me home, Mom."
Michael drank several big gulps. The swallowing echoed slightly in the quiet room.
"You really wanna play it like that? Fine. Be that way. But let me be straight with you, boy—I am done putting up with this childish crap! I've been way too lenient with you. That stops now!"
Michael turned to face her again.
"You? Lenient?"
"No! No! No! You don't get to talk! "
Voice raised.
Michael stayed quiet.
"I gave you the chance to talk and you didn't take it. You blew it. Now it's my turn."
Michael leaned back on the table. Crossed his arms once more.
"I thought you'd grow up on your own if I just let you listen and follow instructions, but clearly that's not enough. I think you need some real-world experience. So I've decided—I'm enrolling you in an actual school. Your homeschooling is cancelled."
Michael uncrossed his arms and frowned.
"Wait, what?"
"That's right. Starting this summer you're going to Rysianthe Academy."
"What the hell is Rysianthe?"
"It's a proper accredited school in Detroit. One of the best in the country. I think it'll be good for you."
"I appreciate it, Mom, but I don't want to go."
Charlotte gave a small laugh.
"Isn't that adorable—you thinking you get a say."
Michael sighed and shook his head.
"So yeah—no more modeling shoots, no more brand deals, no more partying with those spoiled rich kids at clubs."
Michael didn't speak. Shoulders slumped slightly. Fingers drummed lightly on the table.Jaw tightened. Eyes flicked to the floor.
"Now go clean up so we can head home."
"Fine!"
Michael walked out of the room, heading straight to the shower.
Charlotte stayed behind, arms folded across her chest.
The bathroom door clicked shut.
Seconds later, running water started in the distance.