Healing Hearts and Broken Codes

Marriage proposal.?

What I needed most after a 14-hour shift was a good night's sleep. But for my mom, what I needed was a marriage proposal.

"Dear Isa," she began with a smile, "remember we were talking about marriage? Your dad has found someone who is not only very handsome but also rich and powerful."

"Mom, I'd rather live alone than marry someone I've just met," I said, heading toward the washroom.

"It's not a request; it's an order," my father called out.

"I won't marry a stranger," I shouted back, matching his tone.

"Oh really? Then why don't you find someone yourself? Oh, I know the answer already. It's because no one likes you!" His harsh words pierced my heart.

I was exhausted, so I preferred to stay silent and sleep through the rest of the night.

"Thanks, Father," I said sarcastically.

The rest of the night was a blur. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I eventually fell asleep. I was jolted awake by a sudden phone call.

"Hello?" I answered groggily.

"It's already 8; you're late!" I heard my senior scolding me.

"Sorry, Sir," I stuttered.

I quickly got ready and took a cab to the hospital. I wasn't in the mood to talk to any of my family members, so I skipped breakfast.

As soon as I arrived at the hospital, I was met with an emergency.

"Isabella, someone's been shot! Get in the ambulance quickly—move!"

As soon as I got into the ambulance, I was greeted by a serious-looking man—muscular, dressed casually, with light gray eyes and a smug expression.

"What's... your... name?" I asked after several minutes, as the atmosphere grew increasingly awkward.

"Romano," he replied, his expression remaining unchanged.

"Is the patient related to you?" I asked further.

"Yes."

I wanted to ask more, but I chose to remain silent as he seemed lost in his own thoughts.

"His rival shot him," he said as if he could read my mind

How could he convey that with no emotion? Was he even human?

"Rival?" I asked hesitantly.

"Business-related," he replied.

I had many questions, but I didn't want to get involved with him, so I decided to stay silent.

We arrived shortly after.

"Follow me," he said, his voice deep.

"Alright," I replied, my irritation evident.

A few minutes later, I entered a dim corridor with peeling paint and flickering lights, leading to an abandoned warehouse. Inside, there was a dust-covered, scarred desk.

"What is this?" I asked, feeling scared.

"Let's take the patient... to the hospital," I suggested.

"Treat him here," he insisted.

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand why you're treating me this way. I don't have the necessary tools to treat him," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Tell him. He'll get whatever you need," he said.

I was frustrated with his attitude, but I wanted to leave this shady place, so I began to treat the patient quickly.

"He has lost a lot of blood. He needs rest," I instructed.

He didn't respond, so I called him again, "Romano, I said something."

"You can leave!" he snapped.

I couldn't tolerate his attitude any longer. I grabbed my belongings and rushed outside.

But, as usual, curiosity got the best of me.

I decided to investigate the real reason behind all this; I was certain it wasn't a simple case. He clearly didn't care about the patient, nor did he allow the patient to go to the hospital. Something was definitely going wrong.

I was peeking through a nearby window.

"Tell me, how does he know?" Romano demanded, grabbing the man by the collar.

"I don't know," the man stammered, struggling to break free.

How could he treat a patient who hadn't even been properly attended to?

"Do you not know, or do you not want to say?" Romano pressed, pulling out his gun.

I gasped inwardly, but the situation escalated when he shot the man again in the same spot.

The sudden noise made me tremble, and in my panic, I knocked over a nearby pot.

"Fuck!," I whispered, realizing that Romano's attention had shifted to me. He now knew I had witnessed the murder of the patient I had just treated.