I Should Go Now

Juan Shaw was Harbor City's youngest chief of cardiac surgery. Everyone said his hands were the steadiest, and his heart was the coldest as well. But I knew he wasn't incapable of gentleness. It was just that his gentleness was simply never meant for me. The day after our engagement, my father suddenly had a stroke and was rushed to the emergency room. The nurse told me they needed two immediate family members to sign the consent form. I called Juan right away. The phone rang for a long time before he picked up, and a woman's weak sobs came through the line. It was his ex, Whitney Jackson. Juan said in a low voice, "Whitney's having a panic attack and I'm accompanying her. Have the hospital start emergency treatment first." I gripped the pen until my knuckles turned white. "The doctor said they needed two immediate family members to sign. My mom's dead. I only have you." He was silent for two seconds, but his voice stayed steady. "Don't make it sound so serious. Even though the hospital has procedures, they won't really refuse to save him." Whitney choked on a sob on the other side. "Juan, don't let me delay anything. Maybe you should go. I can manage alone." Juan answered at once. "Don't force yourself. I'm not leaving." When the call ended, the nurse urged me again. I lowered my head and looked at the engagement ring on my finger. Juan had chosen it himself. He said the harbor was always covered in thick fog. He could spot me right away if the ring was bright enough. That day, the white lights outside the emergency room were blinding. I was standing in the fog. I couldn't wait for him. By the time Dad was no longer in danger, I had already spent the entire night outside the ward. Daylight came. Juan finally sent a message. [Whitney is asleep now. How's your father?] I looked at the ferry docked at the pier outside the window. The fog was gone. I should go now. Chapter 1 [How's your father?] Juan Shaw's message sat on the screen, a little too late. I sat on the bench outside the emergency room, still holding the pen for the consent form. I had already cracked the cap, and a tiny sharp edge of plastic dug into my palm. The nurse pushed the door open and came out, her voice low. "Ms. Thomas, the patient is stable for now, but we'll need to keep him under observation after this." I nodded. My phone vibrated again. It was Juan. He sent a second message. [Whitney is stable now. I'm coming over.] I stared at the line for a long time, then replied with two words. [It's fine.] He called me almost at once, but I didn't pick up. By the time Dad was taken to the ICU, it was already morning. Through the glass, I saw him lying on the hospital bed, his face covered by an oxygen mask. I suddenly remembered the night of our engagement party. When Juan put the ring on me, his finger brushed over my knuckle. "Vivian, from now on, come to me whenever something happens." The applause below the stage had been so loud then… And to think I had actually believed him. At eight in the morning, Juan finally arrived at the hospital. He wore the dark gray coat from last night, his collar slightly wrinkled, and he smelled of disinfectant mixed with women's perfume. When he saw me, he stopped. "Why didn't you answer my calls?" I leaned against the wall. My voice was a little hoarse. "I was afraid I'd disturb Whitney's sleep." His brow frowned slightly. "Vivian, do you have to talk like that?" I did not raise my head. "Then how should I speak? Should I thank you for making time in your busy schedule to come see my dad?" Juan was quiet for a moment before reaching for my wrist. His touch was gentle, like a doctor comforting a patient. "Last night was an emergency. Whitney has severe anxiety. She can't handle any agitations." I pulled my hand away. "My dad was being resuscitated." "I know," Juan said with a softened voice, "but your dad was already in the hospital. There were doctors and procedures. Whitney only had me." Only had him. I laughed when I heard those three words. Juan looked at me, and annoyance flickered in his eyes. "Stop making a fuss. I'm here now." He always thought showing up counted as making up for it. A hug that came too late, an explanation that came too late, concern that came too late. As long as he was willing to give it, I was supposed to simply accept it. The doctor came out of the office and handed me a stack of billing invoice and the follow-up treatment plan. I had just reached for them when Juan took them first. "I'll handle it." His fingertips skimmed the pages, professional and calm. "I'll ask someone to reevaluate the surgical plan. Don't be too nervous." If this had happened earlier, it would have been enough to bring tears to my eyes. But now, all I could feel was the chill. Then his phone rang. Juan looked down, his expression softened. The caller ID read Whitney. He didn't answer and simply declined the call. A second later, Whitney's message popped up anyway. [Juan, I'm awake. The room is so empty. I'm a little scared.] Juan tightened his grip on the billing forms. I saw it. He also knew I saw it. Everything seemed to go quiet for a few seconds. He looked up, his voice was still steady. "I'll pay your dad's bills first, then go check on her." I looked at the forms in his hand and said, "It's fine." Juan frowned. "Vivian, this isn't the time to act out of anger." I took the forms back and straightened them one by one. "I'm not acting out of anger. I'll handle my dad's care myself." He stared at me, as if he was trying to tell whether my silence was another way to force him to give in. I simply turned and walked toward the billing window. Behind me, Whitney called again as the phone rang. This time, Juan answered and answered with a lowered voice, "Don't be scared. I'll be back soon." I didn't stop walking. There were many people in line, and the light at the window flickered on and off. I lowered my head and looked at the ring on my finger. The diamond was still as bright. And yet, I suddenly felt he could no longer find me. Chapter 2 On the day Dad was moved to a regular ward, Juan brought over a care plan. It was written in great detail. Dad's medication schedules, rehab schedules, dietary restrictions, even the caregiver's shifts were all listed there. Juan placed the folder on the nightstand. "I asked someone to contact the director of rehabilitation. He'll come for a consultation tomorrow." Dad had only just woken up. The corner of his mouth was still a little crooked, and his words were slurred. "Juan... Thank you. Too much trouble…for you…" Juan bent slightly. "Don't worry about anything and rest." He was flawless. He was proper and attentive, just like a good future son-in-law. …If Whitney didn't exist. At noon, Whitney came with a fruit basket. She wore a cream-colored dress. Her face was pale, and a hospital wristband was still around her wrist. The moment she came in, she looked at Juan first. "Did I come at a bad time?" Juan put down the glass of water in his hand. "You haven't recovered yet. Why are you here?" Whitney lowered her head, her voice even lower. "I heard he's finally awake, and I felt guilty. If not for me that day, you wouldn't have..." She stopped halfway, her eyes red. My father didn't know what had happened and hurriedly waved his hand. "It's fine. Don't cry." I stood by the window and watched her put the fruit basket on the table. Inside was a box of blueberries. Dad couldn't eat them. Juan glanced at it and explained it on her behalf. "Whitney simply meant well." I picked up the fruit basket and handed it to the caregiver by the door. "Please, share this with the nurses at their station." Whitney's expression froze for a second. "Vivian, are you still mad at me?" Juan looked at me. The look was nothing but a glance, but it was also a warning. "Don't embarrass her." I used to fear that look more than anything. I was worried he would think I was immature, and that I was making a fuss over nothing. I had endured it so many times. When Whitney had a fever in the middle of the night, he abandoned our anniversary dinner. When Whitney said she was afraid of thunder, he drove across half of Harbor City to keep her company. When Whitney said, "I'm not used to unfamiliar doctors," he personally arranged therapy for her. But when I was in the emergency room on an IV because of stomach pain, he only replied with three words. "Follow medical advice." I looked at Whitney and said calmly, "I'm not mad at you." She froze. Juan also raised his eyes. I continued, "It's your choice to go to him when something happens. It's his choice to go every time." The ward went silent. Whitney bit her lip. "Vivian, I feel awful when you say it like that." Juan finally spoke. "Enough, Vivian." His voice wasn't harsh, but it was enough to make Dad look at me. "Whitney isn't in good health. Don't hurt her with your words." He frowned weakly. "Vivian, don't be stubborn." My fingertips curled slightly. So even Dad thought I was being stubborn. After that, Juan pulled me into the corridor. His fingers closed around my wrist. It wasn't strong, but I couldn't break free all the same. "Your dad just woke up. Did you have to make trouble in the ward?" I looked into his eyes. "What did I do?" "Whitney already apologized," Juan said. "She apologized so everyone would know she's the one who deserves pity," I said. Juan's face darkened. "Vivian, you weren't this harsh before." Of course I wasn't. In the past, I would find excuses for him. I would tell myself that he was just being too responsible, that he simply couldn't bear to see Whitney break down. And yet, the light outside the emergency room had shone all night. Some things had become too evident beneath it. Whitney came out of the ward, leaning against the wall as if she might collapse at any moment. "Juan, my head is a little dizzy." Juan immediately let go of me and walked to her. He put an arm around her shoulders, and his voice lowered. "I'll take you home." Then he looked back at me. "Stay here and take care of your dad. Call me if anything happens." I looked at his hand on Whitney's shoulder, then asked, "If I call, will you answer?" Juan's brow tightened. Whitney leaned against his arm and said softly, "Vivian, don't make this hard for him." I nodded. "Sure." Juan seemed relieved as he helped Whitney and left together. When the elevator doors closed at the end of the corridor, I lowered my head and saw the red marks his grip had left on my wrist. They were very faint. They would disappear soon, just like the hurt I had carried for years. No one saw it, and no one cared. Chapter 3 Juan's mother, Camila, came to the hospital that afternoon. The moment she entered, she set her purse on the chair and gave me the familiar look. She was already assigning blame, as usual. "Vivian, your father being hospitalized is a serious matter. Why didn't you tell us earlier?" I was wiping Dad's hands. "I did." Camila paused, then quickly smiled. "Juan's busy with work. You need to be more understanding. There are many patients who are waiting for him to save their lives." I didn't respond. Dad lay on the bed, guilt in his eyes. "My apologies. We've put your family through a lot." Camila immediately waved it off. "Never mind. We're all family." Then, she took a red invitation sample from her purse. "I had someone redesign the wedding invitations. The mist blue one you chose before was too plain. Whitney has good taste, so she helped pick this gold foil one." My hand stopped at Dad's fingertips. "Whitney helped pick our invitations?" Camila nodded as if it was only natural. "Yes. She grew up with Juan. She knows his taste best." I looked at the bright red invitation. A line of flowing script was printed on the cover. [Until We're Old and Gray] How ironic. "Also," Camila continued, "for the seating arrangement on the wedding day, I had Whitney sit beside the main table due to her health. It'll be easier for Juan to look after her that way." I looked up. "He still has to look after her on our wedding day?" Camila's expression cooled. "Vivian, don't be so petty. Whitney has no parents. So what if Juan is taking a little extra care of her? You're about to marry into our family. You need to be more generous." Dad coughed lightly. "Vivian, she's only worrying about the wedding." I put the towel into the basin, and the water rippled. "Let's put the wedding on hold for now." The ward went quiet. Camila's smile froze. "What did you say?" "With my dad like this, I'm not in the mood for a wedding," I said. Camila frowned. "There are caretakers here. You can't delay the wedding because of this. The hotel, the guests, and the media have all been arranged. What will it look like if you suddenly put it on hold?" She lowered her voice. "Besides, do you understand Juan's position? How many people in Harbor City are watching him? If you make a scene like this, what will happen to his reputation?" I looked at her. "When my dad almost died, he was taking care of Whitney." Camila's face darkened completely. "Vivian, you can't have your cake and eat it too. Didn't Juan come in the end?" In the end. Everyone loved to say that. In the end, he came. In the end, he made it up to me. In the end, he explained. But that night outside the emergency room, I was all alone. Footsteps came from outside the door. Juan pushed the door open and came in. His eyes looked at all of us. "What happened?" Camila immediately said, "Ask her yourself. She said she wanted to put the wedding on hold." Juan looked at me, his expression calm. "Vivian, come outside and talk." Once we were in the corridor, he closed the door. "We can't delay the wedding." His first sentence was not to ask me why. I leaned against the wall and said softly, "My dad needs someone to take care of him." "I'll arrange the best caregivers," he said. I didn't look at him. "What he needs is his daughter." Juan rubbed his temples and said, "You're emotionally unstable right now. Don't make such decisions." I suddenly felt tired. "Juan, I'm not your patient." His movement paused. "You don't need to diagnose me," I continued, "and you don't need to arrange everything for me." He looked at me, his voice lowering. "Vivian, I didn't handle that day well, but a wedding isn't a game. You can't deny us over one accident." One accident. I looked at the silver hands on his watch. It was the birthday gift I gave him last year. He said he couldn't wear anything too flashy in the operating room, so I chose the simplest one. Whitney later praised it for looking good on him once. After that, he started wearing it every day. "If Whitney has another panic attack on our wedding day, will you leave?" I asked him. Juan was silent. The answer was already clear. I smiled. "See? You can't even be bothered to lie to me." His expression shifted. "Vivian, don't make it sound so absolute." The ward door opened. Whitney was standing in the doorway, holding the invitation sample. "Juan, your mom said I should help look over the vows. Did I upset Vivian again?" Juan glanced at her, his voice gentle. "It's fine. Go inside first." I lowered my head and turned the ring on my finger. The band caught on my knuckle and wouldn't come off. It hurt a little. Juan reached out, wanting to rub it for me, but I avoided him. His hand stopped in the air. Whitney watched us and lowered her eyes. "Maybe I should just leave." Juan withdrew his hand and turned to help her. "Don't wander about." I stood there and watched them enter the ward side by side. Before the door closed, I heard Camila sigh. "Whitney is still the reasonable one." I lowered my head and looked at the ring I had finally loosened. When it fell into my palm, the sound was very soft. So soft that no one turned back. Chapter 4 On the day of my dad's follow-up appointment, Juan promised to accompany me to the post-surgery consultation. He said he would be there at ten in the morning. At nine thirty, I pushed the wheelchair and waited at the entrance to the rehab department. Dad was in better spirits. His crooked mouth moved as he asked me, "Is Juan very busy?" I covered his knees with a blanket. "Yes. He's busy." At five minutes past ten, he still was not there. At twenty past ten, the doctor called our number. I called Juan. The first call went unanswered, and the second was declined. On the third call, he finally answered. The background was very quiet, as if he was in a private room. "Vivian, something came up." I looked at the flashing number by the consultation room door. "The doctor's waiting. You have the documents for the follow-up appointment." Last night, he said he was worried I would lose them, so he put them in his briefcase himself. The other end of the call went quiet. "Whitney cut her wrist." My grip on the phone slowly tightened. "Is it serious?" "The wound isn't deep, but she's emotionally very unstable." His voice was tired, and I could hear the blame underneath it. "Last night, she saw the message about you wanting to put the wedding on hold. She thought she had caused it and broke down." I closed my eyes. "Then what about the documents?" "I'll have my assistant send them over," he said. "How long?" I asked. He then answered, "Half an hour." The consultation room door opened, and the doctor looked at me. "Are the documents still not here? There are other patients after you." Dad sat in the wheelchair and struggled to raise his hand to pat me. "It's fine. We can wait." On the phone, Whitney's voice came faintly. "Juan, don't blame Vivian. It's my fault." Juan's voice softened at once. "It's not your fault." Not her fault. Then whose fault was it? Mine? I shouldn't have put the wedding on hold. I shouldn't have made her feel guilty. I shouldn't have asked for my father's documents on the day of his follow-up exam. I apologized to the doctor. "I'm sorry. We'll reschedule." The doctor frowned. "Post-surgery follow-up appointments can't be delayed without a good reason. You need to take this seriously." Take this seriously. I pushed Dad outside. The wheelchair rolled over the seams between the floor tiles, making one dull sound after another. Dad said quietly, "Vivian, maybe the wedding should go on as planned. I'm slowing you down." I stopped in front of the elevator. I felt as though something was choking me. "Dad, this isn't your fault." "Juan is a good man. He's just too dutiful and responsible," Dad said as he looked at me, his eyes cloudy but earnest. "Your mom left early. What I fear most is that no one will care for you. Don't ruin your marriage because of me." I crouched down and straightened the corner of his blanket. "What if he can't take care of me?" Dad froze. The elevator doors opened, and Juan's assistant hurried over and handed me the folder with the documents. "Ms. Thomas, Dr. Shaw asked me to send this over. And this, too." He handed me another white envelope. I opened it, and inside was a confirmation sheet for the wedding schedule. Juan's name had already been signed at the bottom. Beside the bride's vows was a handwritten note. [Whitney goes onstage to give a speech and thank the couple for years of care.] I stared at the line and suddenly wanted to laugh. My wedding. She was going onstage to thank us for taking care of her. "Dr. Shaw said the schedule shouldn't be changed again. Ms. Jackson can't handle any more stress right now," the assistant said cautiously. I held the folder to my chest, the paper corner pressing against me. "What else did he say?" The assistant hesitated. "He said you're not in a good mood lately, so we should humor you for now." Humor me for now. Like an unreasonable patient. Dad saw the schedule sheet, and his face paled. "Vivian..." I folded the schedule and put it into my bag. "Dad, I'll take you back to your ward." In the afternoon, Juan finally came. He stood at the doorway, carrying my dad's favorite soup. "The follow-up appointment has been rescheduled for tomorrow. I'll come with you myself." I looked at him. "What about Whitney?" "She's asleep," he said as he put the soup down and walked up to me. "Today was my fault, but Whitney really almost had an accident. Vivian, when someone's life is at stake, don't argue over who comes first." I nodded. "Alright." He seemed relieved. "I looked over the wedding schedule. My mom added Whitney's speech. She meant well. If you don't like it, I can delete it." "It's fine," I said. Juan was stunned for a bit. I took the engagement ring out of my bag and placed it on the nightstand. The ring rolled once and stopped beside the soup container. "Juan, we'll let the wedding go on as planned." His expression eased. "It's good that you've thought it through." He picked up the ring, about to put it back on me. I pulled my hand back. "Leave it for now. My hand is a little swollen." He didn't force me. That night, after Dad fell asleep, I went to the nurses' station and signed the transfer application. The earliest ferry from Harbor City to Mistport was at five forty in the morning. I left the ring on the bedside cabinet and took Dad's medical records with me. Reaching the end of the corridor, Juan's call came in. The screen lit up, then went dark as I did not pick it up. I pressed the power button.