Jasmine led him to the bus stop without another word. When the first bus arrived, they got on.
Vince sat beside her, hands clasped tightly in his lap. His thoughts spiraled the longer the bus ride stretched on.
Where are we going?
Is Vanessa really okay?
If she hasn't been home... then where has she been sleeping?
He'd stood outside her gate for days. No lights. No movement. Nothing.
The weight of it all settled heavy in his chest.
"You're overthinking," Jasmine said suddenly, eyes still fixed on the passing scenery.
Vince blinked.
"You're very observant."
She glanced down briefly.
"Your leg's been shaking the whole time. Not exactly subtle."
He forced himself to still.
"Sorry."
After a moment, she added quietly,
"She's fine. So don't worry too much."
Vince nodded, a small sense of relief easing his chest. For someone younger than him, Jasmine carried herself with surprising calm. More than calm—she felt steady.
The bus slowed.
"This is our stop," Jasmine said.
Vince followed her off—and froze.
They were in front of a hospital.
His heart sank.
Who's in the hospital?
If Vanessa's okay... then who—?
"Let's go," Jasmine said, already walking ahead.
Inside, the hospital buzzed with controlled chaos. Nurses hurried past. Voices echoed down the halls. The smell of antiseptic hung heavy in the air.
Jasmine approached the reception desk and spoke quietly with the receptionist, giving her name and details Vince couldn't quite hear. After a brief exchange, a nurse nodded and gestured for them to follow.
"Oncology ward," the nurse said.
The word hit Vince like a punch.
Oncology.
As they walked down the long, sterile hallway, his unease grew with every step. Jasmine walked calmly beside him, but his thoughts raced.
Cancer...?
Who?
Vanessa?
But Jasmine had said she was fine.
So then—who?
The doors at the end of the hall loomed closer.
And Vince realized that whatever waited on the other side—
They were led to a private room.
The nurse opened the door, and Vince stopped short.
Vanessa was sitting beside a man lying in the hospital bed. Pale. Thinner than Vince remembered. The same man who had stormed into her mother's flower shop weeks ago—the one who had looked so untouchable then.
Now he looked fragile.
"Mr. Gage," the nurse said gently, "your daughters brought a friend to visit."
Vanessa slowly turned.
The exhaustion on her face was unmistakable—dark circles under her eyes, shoulders slumped like she hadn't slept properly in days. She'd been here. All night. Caring for him.
Her gaze hardened slightly when it landed on Vince.
"Jasmine... why did you bring him here?" she asked, her tone sharper than usual.
Jasmine shrugged.
"He kept bothering me. I got annoyed. Now he's here."
Vanessa exhaled through her nose.
Then she stood.
"Vince, can we talk outside?"
She didn't wait for an answer.
She led him down a quiet stairwell, away from the noise of the ward. The air felt heavier there—thick with everything unsaid.
Vince opened his mouth.
"Vanessa... your dad—"
"Yes. My dad," she cut in calmly. "He has cancer. We found out the day after the amusement park."
The words hit clean. Brutal.
"I'm sorry," Vince said softly.
She leaned against the railing, eyes unfocused.
"It's fine. You know I hate him."
A bitter smile flickered.
"But here I am. Taking care of him anyway. Even after everything he did to us."
She laughed quietly, humorless.
"Funny how you can't escape the people you choose to hate the most."
Vince swallowed.
"How bad is it?"
She didn't hesitate.
"Bad. The doctors recommend transferring him to another hospital."
"Another hospital?"
She nodded.
"Parathyroid cancer. It's rare. He needs multiple surgeries—this place can't handle it."
Vince felt it then.
That hollow sense of dread he'd felt after the amusement park. The strange finality in that goodbye.
It hadn't been paranoia.
Vanessa looked at him, eyes steady despite everything.
"We're moving, Vince."
The words fell like a verdict.
And suddenly, everything he'd been afraid of—
every unanswered message,
every missed day at school—
made sense.