Emergency Room – Late Night
The steady beep… beep… beep of the monitor was the first thing Noah heard as consciousness crept back to him. His eyelids felt heavy, glued shut, but when he finally forced them open, the sterile white light stabbed through his vision.
For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was—only the smell of antiseptic, the muffled footsteps outside the curtain, and the dull, throbbing ache that spread across his back like fire.
Then he noticed the IV line attached to his arm, the cool liquid dripping into his veins. He turned his head slightly, his throat dry. Blue curtains surrounded the narrow hospital bed, cutting him off from the rest of the ward.
When he tried to sit up, pain shot through his body like lightning. His breath caught in his chest, and a quiet hiss escaped his lips. He winced, one hand pressing instinctively to his ribs. The movement pulled at the bandages wrapped tight around his torso — a harsh reminder of every strike he'd taken.
His patience gown was loose at the collar, and through the gap, white gauze peeked from underneath. He stared at it for a long second — silent, unreadable — then leaned back slowly against the pillow, his jaw tightening as if swallowing the pain back down.
Only then did he notice Yogesh beside him.
He was sitting on a chair, half-asleep, his head bobbing forward and jerking back each time he nearly lost balance. His arms were folded across his chest, his face drawn in exhaustion.
"Yogesh." The voice was soft but firm — enough to stir the silence.
Yogesh blinked awake, startled, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "Huh? Oh! You're awake?" he mumbled mid-yawn, covering his mouth clumsily.
Noah's voice came out weak but edged with urgency. "Where's Di?" His sharp gaze cut straight to Yogesh, the worry in his tone impossible to miss.
"She's in her ward," Yogesh replied, his drowsiness fading instantly under Noah's stare. "She told me to look after you." He hesitated for a beat before adding, quieter this time, "Who did that to you?"
"Huh? What?" Noah asked, feigning confusion — too quickly.
Yogesh scoffed. "Don't pretend." His tone hardened, eyes narrowing. "You know damn well what I'm talking about. But fine…" He leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with him. "Let me ask it straight — who whipped on your back and why?"
Noah froze. His throat tightened. The words got stuck somewhere between his chest and his tongue. For once, the boy who could face anything without blinking suddenly looked… unsure.
He didn't answer.
Yogesh let out a slow exhale, reading his silence for what it was. "If you don't wanna say it, fine. I won't push." His voice softened a little, but his eyes stayed serious. "But Di won't let it slide that easily. You've got no idea how terrified she was when you passed out. And what scared her even more…" he paused, his jaw tightening, "were those whip marks on your back."
Noah's gaze flickered — shame, guilt, something unreadable.
"You know," Yogesh continued quietly, "because of all that chaos, her stitches reopened—"
"WHAT?!"
The word tore out of Noah before Yogesh could finish. He shot upright, wincing as pain exploded across his back. His hand flew to the IV line, nearly yanking it out. "How is she?! I need to see her—right now!"
"Hey, hey!" Yogesh snapped, grabbing his wrist before he could move. "Stop being impulsive for once!" His tone sharpened, frustration slipping through his composure. "She's fine. But if you show up like this, she'll panic again. You'll only make things worse."
"But I—"
"No buts!" Yogesh's voice rose, cutting him off. "Do you want her condition to get worse, huh?" He glared coldly, his voice trembling between anger and exhaustion. "She's already been through enough for one night. She didn't even care about her pain — all she cared about was you."
The words hit Noah harder than any whip could. He slumped back onto the bed, eyes dull with guilt. "Was she… in a lot of pain?" His voice came out small, almost fragile.
Yogesh's anger faltered. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah. But… it's not all your fault. You were barely conscious — you didn't even know what was happening. So stop torturing yourself." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "And, uh… sorry for shouting."
Noah gave him a faint, tired smile. "It's fine."
Yogesh nodded, straightening up. "Get some rest, okay? I'll go check on Di and Mom."
Noah simply hummed in response, lying back against the pillow.
Yogesh gave him one last glance before walking out, the sound of his footsteps fading down the hall.
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At 4:30 a.m.
Noah jolted awake — breath ragged, eyes wide. His heart hammered against his ribs like it wanted out. The nightmare still clung to him — fire, screeching tires, the twisted wreck of a car. His parents' voices echoing through the darkness.
He ran a trembling hand through his hair and reached for the water glass beside the bed. The cold liquid did little to steady him.
For a long moment, he just sat there — staring into the dim light of the emergency room, the monitor's soft beeping keeping him tethered to the present.
Then, slowly, he swung his legs off the bed.
Ignoring the protest of his muscles, he got to his feet, gripping the IV stand for support. The wheels creaked as he began to walk — one slow, deliberate step after another — out of the curtained space towards Yunah's ward.