THE CALL THAT CAME TOO LATE
A couple of weeks had passed since Velaria left the hospital. For everyone else, life had moved on except for Dylan.
He had stopped going to the hospital with his aunt. The place that once felt lively and familiar now felt empty without the small girl who used to sit by the window holding her blanket.
At home, things were even worse. Dylan barely touched his food. Plates sat in front of him untouched while he stared blankly at the table. His mother would try to pacify him but all to no avail. Sometimes he'd push the food away completely and leave the dining room without a word, locking himself up in his room.
Some nights, he didn't sleep at all. His bedroom light would stay on long past midnight while he sat on the floor, holding the small red box Velaria had given him before she left.
Sometimes he opened it. Sometimes he just held it. And sometimes, he cried quietly.
His mother was concerned. At first, she thought it was just a phase, a child being emotional after losing a friend. But days turned into weeks, and Dylan only seemed to get worse.
One afternoon, she found him pacing his room, frustrated and restless. "Dylan," she said gently from the doorway, "what is wrong with you lately?"
He stopped pacing and looked at her with tired eyes. "Mom, can I get Velaria's number?" His voice was small, almost pleading. "I just want to talk to her."
His mother sighed. "No." The answer came quickly and firmly. Dylan's face fell. "But Mom…"
"There will be no phone calls and no more visits to the hospital," she said, her tone sharper now. "You need to focus on your studies and your life."
Dylan clenched his fists. "But she's my friend!" His voice cracked. "I promised her I would call!"
His mother rubbed her temples in frustration.
"Dylan, what is wrong with you?" she blurted out worriedly. "What is the obsession with this Velaria girl?"
"I'm not obsessed!" he snapped back, tears gathering in his eyes. "I just want to talk to her! I want to ask if she's alright."
He walked closer, holding the red box in one hand and grabbing his mom's hand in the other. "Please, Mom… can I get her family's number?"
Her expression hardened. "No." That single word hit him like a wall.
After that day, Dylan worsened. He stopped concentrating in class. His homework piled up unfinished. His teacher began sending notes home.
At night, he tossed and turned in bed, whispering Velaria's name into the darkness.
Eventually, he fell sick. A fever came first, then exhaustion. His mother watched helplessly as her once energetic son became quiet and withdrawn.
Finally, alarmed by his distress, she had no choice but to call her sister, Dr. Nadia. "I don't know what to do anymore," she admitted one evening. "Dylan hasn't been himself since that girl left the hospital."
Dr. Nadia paused. "You mean Velaria?" "Yes. He refuses to eat properly. He cries at night, and he keeps asking for her number," she said anxiously. "What am I supposed to do?"
There was silence on the other end for a moment. Then Dr. Nadia spoke gently. "He's just a child. Velaria was his friend during a very emotional time. Let him talk to her."
His mother hesitated. "But…" "Just give him the number," Dr. Nadia insisted softly. "It might help him heal." After a long pause, Dylan's mother sighed. Maybe her sister was right.
That evening, she walked into Dylan's room. He was lying helplessly on the bed with the red box beside him. "Dylan." He opened his eyes and sat up slowly. "I have something for you." She handed him a small piece of paper.
For a moment, he stared at it in confusion. Then his eyes widened. "Is this…?" "Yes," she said. "Velaria's contact."
The reaction was immediate. Dylan jumped to his feet as if a spark had lit inside him. "Really?!" His voice exploded with excitement.
"Yes. But…." She didn't even finish the sentence before he ran across the room. He grabbed the phone with shaking hands and dialed the number quickly, barely able to breathe.
The phone rang. Once. Twice. Then... "Hello?" Dylan froze. "Velaria?" he called softly, his voice cracking with emotion.
There was a sudden gasp on the other end. "Dylan?!" Her voice sounded surprised and happy all at once. "You found me!"
"I did!" he said quickly. "Are you okay? Did you get home safely?"
"Yes," Velaria replied, a small giggle escaping her. "I'm fine… mostly. But I missed you!"
Dylan leaned against the wall, relief flooding through him. "I missed you too." Then he added softly, "I promised I'd find you. And I did." Velaria laughed lightly.
"I wanted to see you on the last day… but I wasn't allowed to come to the hospital," Dylan explained. "I couldn't reach you."
"Oh," she said quietly. "Okay… that's what happened."
The two children began talking, and they didn't stop. They laughed about the hospital garden. They talked about the nurses they used to tease. Hours passed without either of them noticing. For that moment, it felt like the distance between them had disappeared.
"Maybe I can visit you," Dylan said excitedly.
"Yes!" Velaria replied quickly. "You should!"
"I'll call you later, Velaria," he promised. "I'll tell you when I'm coming."
"I can't wait," she said happily. "I'll be expecting you." That evening, Dylan finally slept peacefully. For the first time in weeks, he felt hopeful.
But the happiness didn't last. Barely two weeks after the call, Velaria's world shattered.
She sat in the car with her parents after a routine check-up at a hospital farther from home. Her small hands gripped the seat tightly as the car moved along the highway. She pressed her forehead to the window, watching the sunlight scatter across the passing trees. Her mind was on Dylan and their recent conversations.
Her mother sat in front, reviewing the test results from the oncology hospital. Her father's eyes were fixed on the road, his jaw tight, hands firm on the wheel.
For a moment, the hum of the engine and the rhythm of the tires on the road felt normal.
"Mom… Dad…" Velaria tried to speak, her voice small and hesitant.
"Yes, Velaria?" her mother answered, not looking up from her papers.
"I…I'm a little sleepy," Velaria said. She yawned. Her father glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "That's fine, sweetheart. Just rest."
All of a sudden, there was a forceful severe collision with an oncoming speeding vehicle, the tires screeched as the car swerved violently. Velaria lost her balance as the violent impact threw her against the seats. Her parents hit their heads against the windshield. Her Mother screamed.
"Mom! Dad!" Velaria shrieked, but the sound of her voice was overshadowed by the chaos. They were hit by an oncoming speeding vehicle. As they tried to swerve, the car capsized into a gutter. The world tilted sideways. Glass shattered and metal got twisted.
Pain exploded across Velaria's body, in her chest, her head, her legs. She tried to move, tried to reach her parents, but a strange numbness took over her limbs. The car slammed again. A deafeningly loud, crushing sound made her scream, then everything went black.
Ambulances came and rushed them to the hospital. Velaria and her parents laid unconscious and severely injured as they were taken in.
Months passed. Dylan had tried his best to get in touch with Velaria, all to no avail. He called multiple times throughout the day but got no response.
"Maybe something is wrong…" he whispered one night, staring at the phone. He curled into bed, clutching the red box. "She said she would send me her address." He said, sobbing to sleep.
Meanwhile, life in Dylan's world was changing.
After a long stay in California, it was time to go back home. Dylan and his parents were always on the move for business purposes and rarely vacated.
His father, Mr Martinez, had returned from an overseas business trip.
The Martinez family owned one of the largest business empires in the world. Martinez Global Holdings. The company controlled industries across finance, education, technology, automobiles and fashion. Dylan's grandfather had built the foundation of the empire. He had placed his children in the various sectors.
However, Dylan's father, Will Martinez, now served as the powerful CEO. Under his leadership, the company had expanded ten times larger than before.
And Dylan… was his only son. The heir.
In the Martinez family, sons were trained from a young age to lead. "Without knowledge and practice, you cannot rule," his father often said sternly. Dylan always knew his Father to be strict, principled and disciplined.
His father taught him about poverty being a choice, a result of laziness. That was one of the many harsh lessons his father instilled in him.
Soon, Dylan's days became packed with lessons, assignments, and business training, including his school activities. He traveled with his father on short business trips.
He studied markets, industries, and leadership strategies. His life was becoming very different. He was growing up fast.
But sometimes at night, he still held the red box and wondered why Velaria never answered his calls again.
Slowly, as the years passed, the memories of the hospital began to blur. Velaria's face became distant.
His father's words grew louder instead. " As a leader, don't fail to meet your deadlines."."Never be weak. Success demands discipline."
Far away, unknown to Dylan, his little friend was fighting the hardest chapter of her life.