"How are you feeling?" The doctor glanced between Roseanne and the chart bearing her name. "Any headaches? Dizziness?"
She closed her eyes, hand on her forehead. The starchy sheet and thin blanket of the hospital bed were uncomfortably familiar, as was the room she was in. She was well-acquainted with it. Given that her family's name was on this wing of the hospital, there was always a room available for one of the Parks. Especially if their name happened to be Roseanne.
"Slight headache," she said. "Nothing new."
The doctor nodded. As he made a note, Roseanne turned her head toward the large rectangular window overlooking the Seoul skyline. For a single second, her mind was elsewhere, flying high above those cirrus clouds and pretending she was scaling Mount Bukhansan...
Ugh. Bukhansan. That was the name of the security company her mother had hired.
"The good news is that your blood sugar has returned to normal. I have no reason to keep you any longer." The doctor folded his clipboard against his stomach as he loomed over Roseanne, whose hands curled around the blanket. "But I'm rather surprised this happened, Roseanne. Have you had a rise in stress levels recently?"
Where to begin? The never-ending family drama? The latest weirdness with my controlling mom? My constant desire to leave it all behind, somewhere far, far away from here?
Roseanne hadn't considered herself stressed. But maybe she was heading in that direction. "I guess I have been more stressed out than usual. And I haven't been sleeping well either. There's... a lot going on in my life right now."
The doctor gave her a sympathetic look. "I know it's hard, but you have to be more careful, especially when you're under pressure. Psychological stress disturbs the body's metabolic processes..."
Roseanne tuned him out. Fifteen years of Type 1 diabetes. I know the drill by now. She could still recall the day she was diagnosed. Mostly because her mother had collapsed in a fit of tears, convinced that it would be the death of her daughter. Even after the doctors had assured her that diabetes was perfectly manageable with diet and medication, she went through stints of crying and praying over Roseanne. The woman wasn't even religious!
"Do you want me to call someone to take you home?" The doctor asked, finally done with his spiel. "As you know, we can't discharge you without an escort. We can call a family member to—"
Roseanne didn't let him finish his sentence. "Don't call my family. Please."
After her last trip to the hospital, she'd arranged with the staff to keep any emergency stays a secret from her family—namely her mother—if they weren't the ones who admitted her. Who admitted me, anyway? She only had a vague recollection of the minutes leading up to her ass ending up passed out on the floor of a café.
"I... I'll think of someone," she said.
"All we need is another adult who can sign you out. We could release you to the friend who came in with you."
Huh? "What friend?"
"Er..." The doctor looked at his papers again. "The one who called the ambulance and rode with you here. Quite the formidable-looking lady. I don't think she was allowed in the ambulance, but from what I hear, she made a convincing argument. She must be a good friend of yours." He glanced back up at her. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"
Oh. No.
Memories came flooding back. Lisa Manoban. The woman who had stared Roseanne down from across the table and told her that she was under no circumstances going to be Roseanne's personal bodyguard.
