MAYA, my love.

CHAPTER 6

"Jerald," John called out. "Where are you?"

"Yes, sire. How may I assist you?" Jerald inquired, hastening to enter the room where John was seated. The office featured a large window at the front and center, behind the desk and chair on which John was seated. The room was decorated with a minimalist aesthetic, dominated by stacks of paperwork scattered across the surface.

"Please convey this message to the general and request his presence at the meeting tomorrow. His input will be invaluable, as there are numerous matters requiring his expertise," John instructed, handing Jerald a letter. "Here. Ensure this reaches him."

"Yes, sire," Jerald replied, demonstrating his obedience. He was big musculer fellow and his appearance was intimidating characterized by his imposing stature and numerous scars, including one that extended from his forehead to his left eye. While his appearance was befitting a seasoned warrior, it was perceived as intimidating by the capital's residents. John and Jerald shared a deep bond, having trained and lived together for over a decade. Jerald's loyalty to Ceracuse was unwavering, and John held him in high regard. Though John often encouraged Jerald to engage more diplomatically with others, Jerald's straightforward and reserved nature made him less adept at such interactions. However, those who knew him well were aware of his unexpectedly caring nature.

"Sire, you have been at this desk for several hours. The extended reading must be straining your eyes," Jerald remarked, standing at attention and placing his fist over his chest. "As soldiers, we require both fresh air and physical activity. Additionally, it is my duty to ensure that you do not forfeit your strength and lose all your muscle as you spent hours bent on your desk."

John chuckled at Jerald's earnest concern, finding his seriousness amusing.

"Indeed, it has been a considerable time, but there remains much to address, including the suspicious movements of Nivara and the ongoing pandemic," John acknowledged, glancing out the window. "By the way, what time is it?"

"The sun has set long ago. It is quite late into the night," Jerald responded.

"Ah, oh no. I forgot. " John said abruptly." I must be on my way. Goodbye Jerald see you tomorrow. " He rose from his chair, donned his coat, and hurriedly exited the room, proceeding down the corridor before Jerald could ask him the reason for his haste.

He was moving at quick pace. Upon reaching the main palace, John inquired of the attendant regarding the daily examination.

"Where is the attending physician? Am I still prohibited from entering the room?"

"Regrettably Sire, His Majesty still remains infectious. Entry is restricted according to his instructions," the guard answered, bowing respectfully.

"And the doctor?"

"She departed a few minutes ago but may still be en route. Would you like me to summon her?"

"No, remain at your post," John instructed, hastening out of the building.

He might have been late. He was rushing to catch up to her before she reentered the ward. The path leading to the hospital was a long, straight stretch, one of the most serene and picturesque routes from the palace.

On the left side of the path lay a large lake, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. The pale illumination cast gentle shadows across the water, creating a tranquil and soothing atmosphere.

Where could she have gone? If she had left only five minutes ago, she would still be on this path, given its length and visibility. As he continued forward, he wondered about her location. It was challenging to find her. Just then, he heard a loud thump from up the stairs to his right. These stairs ascended to a higher level, partially obscured by bushes. He climbed the stairs to investigate the source of the sound.

At the top, he found a woman lying on the ground, her white coat spread around her. Documents were scattered in disarray, and her head rested on a large blue file. Her hands covered her eyes, with her elbows raised in a defensive posture. He paused, observing her stillness. Concerned that she might have sustained an injury from a fall, he contemplated approaching her to offer assistance. However, her quiet sobbing, muffled by her hands, made him hesitant. The subdued nature of her cries had initially gone unnoticed, only becoming apparent now that he was close.

This was the same woman who had appeared so composed earlier that morning. Seeing her in this vulnerable state challenged his previous perception of her. Although he wanted to help, he hesitated. Her choice of a secluded spot and her effort to avoid being seen suggested a desire for privacy. It was clear she did not want to reveal her vulnerability. He was reluctant to intrude.

Realizing he had been so absorbed in his own concerns that he overlooked her distress, he reflected on her situation. The woman, burdened with demanding work and long hours, seemed exhausted. If her emotional outburst was due to work-related stress, she needed to prioritize her well-being. If the issue was more personal, it was not his place to intervene. She had struck him as someone who embraced difficulty rather than sought ease.

Most people strive to simplify their lives, but he had encountered a few who preferred hardship. Was she one of them? He decided it was best to leave her situation unexamined and proceed to his room. He climbed down and walked back towards the palace. However, he stopped again, reconsidering whether he should have offered help, especially if she had injured herself. Unsure of the appropriate response—whether to assist or to respect her apparent wish for solitude—he hesitated.

He was busy pondering over his delimma when he observed her descending the stairs, carrying a substantial stack of documents and walking towards the hospital. She was completely unaware of his presence and seemed to be in a hurry. He concluded that he should return to the palace as he had decided initially.

"I can talk to her another time, I suppose," he muttered to himself.