His name was Nathaniel

19

Adaliya fidgeted in the stiff hospital chair, glancing nervously at the clock on the wall. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation and the distant beeping of medical equipment. Her parents sat on either side of her, their faces etched with concern, though her mother's expression was softer, almost amused as she watched Adaliya's restless movements.

"It's just a check-up, Adaliya," her mother said gently, placing a reassuring hand on her daughter's knee. "Your grandpa will be fine. It's probably just a pulled muscle or something minor."

Adaliya nodded, though the anxiety twisting in her stomach didn't ease. She knew her mother was right, but the sight of her grandfather in pain had rattled her more than she'd care to admit. They had all rushed to the hospital early that morning after he'd woken up with a sharp pain in his lower back, unable to move without grimacing.

"It's nothing serious," her father added, trying to ease the tension. "He'll be out of here in no time, probably just needs to take it easy for a bit."

Adaliya forced a smile and nodded again, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She couldn't help but think about Nathaniel. Weeks had passed without any word from him, and her worry grew stronger with each passing day. Had something happened to him? Was he okay? The uncertainty gnawed at her, but there was nothing she could do. She hadn't been able to find any trace of him, and the silence was driving her mad.

Little did she know, just a few floors above her, Nathaniel was lying in a hospital bed, oblivious to the fact that Adaliya was so close.

Nathaniel stared blankly at the ceiling, the soft murmur of the television in the background doing little to distract him from the ache in his chest. The events of the past few weeks had left him exhausted, both physically and mentally. His father's relentless questioning, the isolation, and now the surgery—it was all too much.

A soft knock on the door broke through his reverie, and he turned his head to see a young nurse entering the room. She was new, a trainee perhaps, and she approached him hesitantly, carrying a clipboard and wearing an uncertain expression.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Donovan," she said, her voice soft as she tried to maintain a professional demeanor. "I'm here to check on your vitals and make sure everything's healing properly."

Nathaniel nodded silently, watching as she went about her task. She seemed nervous, her hands trembling slightly as she took his blood pressure and checked the bandages on his arm.

The nurse's gaze faltered as she noticed the dark bruises on his wrists, the evidence of his father's harsh measures, and she hesitated before speaking again. "These... bruises," she began tentatively, her voice barely above a whisper, "how did they—"

Before she could finish, another nurse—a senior one—entered the room, her expression stern. She glanced at the trainee with a disapproving look, and the younger nurse quickly fell silent, lowering her gaze.

"Mr. Donovan's father has instructed us not to ask any unnecessary questions," the senior nurse said firmly, addressing the trainee but glancing at Nathaniel as well. "We are here to provide care, nothing more."

The trainee nodded quickly, her face flushing with embarrassment. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry."

Nathaniel looked away, his heart sinking further as the reality of his situation settled in. Even here, in a place meant to heal and protect, his father's influence was all-encompassing. There was no escape, no one he could turn to for help or comfort.

The nurses finished their checkup and left the room, leaving Nathaniel alone once more. He closed his eyes, trying to push away the darkness that threatened to swallow him whole. His thoughts drifted to Adaliya, the one bright spot in his life, the only person who had ever made him feel truly alive.