Marcus had been looking forward to a quiet evening at home, maybe even convincing Leona to order takeout and watch a movie. But as he stepped into his house, the sight that greeted him turned his blood cold.
"Leona!" he shouted, dropping his briefcase as he rushed to her crumpled figure on the living room floor. Her skin was clammy, her breathing shallow. He checked her pulse, relief washing over him when he found it, but it was faint.
He didn't think twice. Scooping her into his arms, he muttered, "You're not doing this to me, Lee."
The ride to the hospital was a blur of red lights and his pounding heart.
************
She woke in the sterile brightness of a hospital room. Machines beeped softly around her. Marcus was sitting nearby, his face etched with worry.
"What happened?" she murmured, her voice hoarse.
"You collapsed," Marcus said, his tone clipped. "You scared the hell out of me."
Before she could respond, the door opened, and a middle-aged doctor walked in, clipboard in hand. He introduced himself as Dr. Weiss and wasted no time getting to the point.
"We've reviewed your tests and imaging," Dr. Weiss said. "Leona, you don't just have heart failure. It's more complicated. You have a rare condition-cardiac sarcoma. It's an aggressive tumor in the heart."
Her breath hitched. The words felt surreal, like they weren't meant for her.
Marcus leaned forward. "But there's a treatment plan, right? Surgery?"
Dr. Weiss shook his head grimly. "Unfortunately, the location and size make it inoperable. We can manage symptoms, but..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.
She sat there, numb, while Marcus peppered the doctor with questions. Finally, Dr. Weiss added, "There is one doctor who may be able to help. Dr. Tristan Hale. He's a leading expert in rare cardiac conditions, and he's recently joined our team."
"I don't want to be anyone's experiment," Leona said softly, her voice laced with steel.
"This isn't about experiments," Dr. Weiss said gently. "It's about giving you the best care possible."
**************
The Runaway Patient
Tristan was reviewing charts in his office when a knock on the door pulled his attention. Dr. Patel, a colleague, entered with a file in hand.
"Got a case for you, Hale," Patel said, handing over the file. "Rare cardiac sarcoma. Patient collapsed at home and was brought in last night. The diagnosis came through this morning."
Tristan flipped through the pages, his expression turning serious. "This is... unique."
"She's hesitant about any treatment," Patel added. "But if anyone can get through to her, it's you."
Tristan nodded, closing the file. "I'll meet her now."
When he arrived at her room, however, it was empty. The bed was neatly made, the machines silent.
"Where's the patient?" he asked, looking around.
"Gone," a nurse replied, frowning. "She must've left when no one was watching."
Tristan blinked. "She... walked out? Just like that?"
"I guess so."
Tristan shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. "The runaway patient. That's a first."
Meanwhile, Marcus was livid. "How the hell does someone just leave a hospital unnoticed?" he demanded, his voice echoing through the corridors as he confronted the hospital administrators.
"Sir, we're doing everything we can to locate her," one of them said.
"That's not good enough!" Marcus shot back. "She's sick! She could be unconscious in an alley somewhere, or worse!"
Security was mobilized, and hospital staff combed through the building and its surroundings, but Leona was nowhere to be found.
************
Among the Books
Leona didn't know how long she had been wandering before she found herself standing outside a quaint bookstore. The smell of old paper and ink greeted her as she stepped inside. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that let her breathe.
She traced her fingers along the spines of the books, her gaze unfocused. Her body felt heavy, her chest tight, but being here made it easier to ignore.
She stopped at a display of novels, her fingers lingering on the cover of a romance book. Her lips twitched in a half-smile. The irony, she thought.
As her hand fell away, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the bookstore window. For the first time, she truly looked at herself-her cocoa-brown skin that seemed duller than usual, her dark, tired eyes, her once-bouncy curls that now seemed lifeless.
"I'm not ready," she whispered to herself.
But ready or not, the storm was here.
*******
The day had ended, and despite the flurry of activity at the hospital, Leona was still nowhere to be found. Tristan felt a lingering curiosity, but he had no choice but to push it aside for now. His focus should remain on the patients he could help-there were others depending on him.
However, he couldn't shake the thought of her. The woman who had walked out without a word. The one whose case had him both intrigued and frustrated.
"Man, you're thinking too much again," Jared teased as he passed by Tristan's office. "Let's get out of here. You're not solving any problems tonight."
With a sigh, Tristan gave in. Jared was right; it had been a long day. They'd both earned a break.
As they arrived at their usual hangout, Tristan was already feeling the weight of his thoughts lift slightly. The place was dim, lively with chatter and the clink of glasses. Jared, as usual, wasted no time finding someone to talk to, leaving Tristan to fend for himself for a bit.
It wasn't long before he noticed her. A woman, dancing alone by the jukebox, completely lost in her own world. She swayed effortlessly to the music, her movements confident and free, as if she didn't have a care in the world. The light caught her features occasionally, enough for him to catch glimpses of a beauty he hadn't expected.
She was captivating, her entire being exuding a quiet strength. The way she moved seemed to tell a story of her own, one he couldn't yet read but was intrigued to understand.
Just as Tristan was about to step forward, the woman bumped into him while turning in her dance, the impact subtle but enough for them to notice each other. She offered a small, apologetic smile. "Sorry, excuse me," she said, her voice light but sincere.
For a moment, time seemed to slow. There was something about her that caught his attention immediately-a rawness, an authenticity. Her eyes briefly locked with his, and despite the busyness around them, it felt like everything else faded away.
"No harm done," he replied smoothly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
She nodded, moving past him to continue her dance. Tristan didn't immediately turn away. Instead, he stood there, his gaze following her as she danced, her movements fluid and full of energy. It was as if she was rocking away every worry, every doubt that might have been plaguing her. It was mesmerizing to watch.
He ordered a drink but hardly noticed the bartender's presence, his eyes locked on the woman as she moved, lost in the music. The carefree way she danced, so disconnected from everything else, was a stark contrast to the constant tension he often felt at work.
There was something... different about her.