Eira's Perspective
I paced anxiously outside the surgery room, struggling to calm my racing thoughts. Despite avoiding the car ride with Arin, he still met with an accident. My mind was consumed by worry for my best friend's well-being; losing him was unbearable.
But questions swirled in my head: How did this happen? I thought changing the past would prevent disasters. Time travel movies always showed altered timelines yielding positive outcomes. Had I made a mistake?
Time traveling was already pushing me to the edge, but Arin's accident sent me reeling. I felt my grip on sanity slipping.
Just then, the surgery room door swung open, and the doctor emerged. "Doctor, how's Arin?" I asked, worry etched on my face.
"Luckily, the surgery was successful, but..." The doctor hesitated, scanning the empty hallway before focusing on me. "Are you his guardian?"
I shook my head. "No, I'm not family, but I'm his best friend. You can trust me with any information."
The doctor nodded. "In that case, let's discuss this in my office."
He led me to his office, leaving me wondering what he wasn't saying.
As I sat in the doctor's office, I couldn't help but worry about Arin's future.
"What is it you wanted to discuss, doctor?"
"The surgery was successful," the doctor said, "but Arin may experience some side effects."
My mind raced with worst-case scenarios.
"Physical side effects?" I asked.
"Headaches, fatigue, blurred vision, or difficulty speaking," the doctor replied.
I felt a knot in my stomach.
"And cognitively?" I pressed.
"Memory loss, difficulty concentrating, mood swings..."
Emotional instability? Personality changes? I couldn't bear the thought.
"Will he be the same?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
The doctor's expression was sympathetic.
"We'll monitor his progress, but every individual recovers differently."
My heart sank.
Arin, my best friend, might never be the same again.
"I'm not aware if Arin has a spouse or immediate family," the doctor said, "but it's crucial they're informed about his condition."
"He is not married but I've already contacted his mom," I replied. "She's on her way."
The doctor nodded. "Good. Keeping his family updated is essential. Also, it's vital Arin avoids stress; his condition can't withstand it."
I hesitated, seeking reassurance. "Is there hope for a full recovery?"
The doctor's expression remained cautious. "As I mentioned earlier, every individual's recovery process is unique."
I let out a frustrated sigh, longing for a more definitive answer.
As I exited the doctor's office, I headed toward Arin's ward. Suddenly, I heard the click-clack of high heels approaching. Tina emerged, looking polished and poised, her makeup perfectly in place. I couldn't help but wonder how she'd had time to glam up amidst the crisis.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her tone laced with disdain.
"I'm pretty sure we are here for the same reason," I replied, leading her into the ward.
Tina gasped upon seeing Arin's bandaged and unconscious form. "Oh my goodness, Arin! What happened to you, my baby?" She sobbed, her performance striking me as insincere.
"Arin, please wake up, my love," she continued, her voice dripping with dramatic flair.
I rolled my eyes, skeptical of her genuine concern. Just then, the door swung open, and Arin's mother rushed in, her face etched with worry. She hastened to Arin's side, grasping his hand.
Her tears fell freely as she gazed at her son's fragile state. The authenticity of her emotions stood in stark contrast to Tina's display.
As I turned to leave, Mrs. Gerald's gentle voice halted me. "Eira, wait."
She approached, wiping away tears, and grasped my hand. "Thank you for staying with Arin. I owe you a debt of gratitude."
"It's nothing, Aunty," I replied. "Arin's my friend."
Mrs. Gerald's gaze shifted to Tina, still standing beside Arin's bed. Her expression changed, a hint of surprise and curiosity.
"Who are you, miss?" Mrs. Gerald asked, her tone polite but wary.
I raised an eyebrow. "You don't know her?"
Mrs. Gerald shook her head. "No, I don't."
Tina's presence seemed to puzzle her. "How can you not know Arin's girlfriend?" I asked, intrigued.
Mrs. Gerald's confusion deepened. "Arin has a girlfriend?"
Her gaze returned to Tina, a mix of displeasure and skepticism hidden beneath her composed exterior.
Mrs. Gerald's unawareness of Tina's relationship with Arin puzzled me. Why would Arin keep his girlfriend a secret? Tina was stunning, wealthy, and kind-hearted surely not someone to be ashamed of.
My thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Gerald's concerned question, "How's Arin's condition?"
I guided her to a chair and sat beside her, recounting the doctor's update. As I spoke, her tears flowed freely. I offered comforting words and gentle reassurance, understanding her distress.
No mother would remain calm seeing their child in such a state.
After calming Mrs. Gerald, I stepped into the restroom to freshen up. As I exited, I spotted a familiar phone on the sink. My brow furrowed, it was Tina's.
Why in the world would she forget her phone in a place where anyone can come and steal it?
I can't believe this.
I picked it up, surprised to find no password protection.
Curiosity got the better of me as I wiped my watery hand with a tissue and opened her call log but then I saw multiple calls to Arin around the time of his accident. My unease grew. I navigated to her texts and found a chilling message: "Die. Just Die already!"
I arched my brow as I checked the phone again to see if I wasn't mistaken and it wasn't for Tina but it was for her.
What in the world is going on? What did she tell Arin to die?
The door swung open, and Tina entered. "What are you doing with my phone?" she demanded, reaching for it.
I held firm. "Why did you call Arin repeatedly?"
Tina's expression turned possessive. "He's my boyfriend. It's none of your business."
My anger simmered. I pinned her against the wall, my voice low and urgent. "Tell me the truth. What happened to Arin? I know you're hiding something. What in the world did you do to Arin."