Where Have You Gone

Chapter 3️⃣1️⃣

As Becky stepped out of the hospital and made her way toward the food court, she clung tightly to Friend’s arm, a gesture that belied her nervousness. Despite Friend’s encouraging demeanor, it was evident that Becky felt a wave of apprehension washed over her.

Finding a small table nestled in a corner of the food court, she eased herself into a chair, her hands still slightly trembling. Friend, sensing the weight of the moment, offered a reassuring smile before heading off to procure meals for both of them. The food court, with its scattered tables and bustling atmosphere, was just a stone's throw away from the hospital doors. Even from his vantage point in the corridor, Richie could spot them from the room where he and Anne were waiting.

Richie stood just outside the hospital room, his body tense as he engaged in a series of seemingly simple yet intellectually challenging questions posed by his inquisitive daughter, Anne. Although Richie and Irin—his partner—exuded a facade of coolness, the underlying anxiety was palpable. He could only imagine the emotional turmoil Irin was facing at that moment. This section of the hospital was secure, a place where access was strictly controlled, limiting entry to those with special access cards.

Feeling a deep-seated need to be by Irin's side, Richie turned to his daughter.

“Anne, darling, can we head inside for a bit?” he inquired gently.

“No, Papa!” she protested with the cheerful defiance typical of her age. “I like it out here! I can see Becky and Friend from here, and look at all the birds in the garden!”

Richie smiled at her enthusiasm but felt the urge to teach her something important. “Anne, how many times do I need to remind you? You should call her Auntie instead of just her name. It's important to respect the older ones.”

“Sorry, Papa," she replied, a hint of disappointment creasing her face. "But I don’t want to go inside. This place is boring.”

Richie couldn’t help but be reminded of his partner’s endearing expressions. Chuckling softly, he said, “Okay, I’ll be just a moment. Papa’s going inside to check on Mama. You promise to stay right here, alright?”

“Okay, Papa!” Anne beamed, her dimples appearing on both cheeks as she complied.

With a gentle pat on his daughter’s head, Richie made his way into the room to see Irin, still grappling with the weight of the situation.

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Meanwhile, on the other side of the hospital, Faye was one of the few people who had known Freen for three years now. Freen's cold and distant demeanor had earned her the reputation of being a nightmare among her peers. During their time together, Faye had never once seen Freen genuinely smile. It left her curious, pondering whether Freen even knew how to express joy, given the shadows from her traumatic past that few were familiar with.

Faye's father and Freen’s father were long-time friends from their medical college days, both respected doctors. He was privy to the nuances of Mr. Chankimha’s life and family, including the burdens Freen carried. Given this trust, Faye felt a responsibility to be there for Freen, which is why she found herself in the hospital at Mr. Chankimha's personal request.

The formal welcome ceremony was drawing to a close, and the staff couldn’t stop buzzing about their new boss.

As she stepped out of a luxurious black car, Freen commanded attention in her exquisite tuxedo. Her long hair cascaded down her back like the dark waves of the ocean, framing her face's elegant features. With a moderately chiseled jawline and strong, masculine arms, she bore a striking presence. The sharpness of her gaze was both captivating and unsettling—an arresting beauty that people underestimated.

The announcement from Mr. Chankimha was met with disbelief: his daughter would take the helm of the hospital. For many, this news came as a shock since few knew he had a daughter; he was as well-known for his medical expertise as for his prominent political presence.

Once the ceremony concluded and most had dispersed, Freen remained in the company of her secretary, Bright, and Faye. The remaining security personnel escorted the last few stragglers away. Walking down the long corridor toward Richie and Irin’s room, Freen felt a wave of tension rise within her. She stepped aside into a quiet corner, taking deep, steadying breaths to calm her nerves.

Faye approached her with concern, “Are you feeling nervous about meeting your first patient?” she asked, careful to gauge Freen’s state of mind.

Freen released an audible sigh. “I’m not nervous about the patients. It’s just... it’s hard to explain.”

Amazement flickered across Faye’s face, as witnessing Freen display signs of nervousness was a rarity.

“Can we postpone the meeting for another day? I just don’t think I can handle it today,” Freen suggested in a calm voice, attempting to steady her racing heart.

“Freen, they’ve been waiting patiently for far too long,” Faye responded, her tone edged with empathy. “You know it wouldn’t be professional to cancel at the last minute.”

“I understand it’s unprofessional, but if you could conduct the preliminary tests with the child, I’d prefer to meet them only after we’ve scheduled the surgery date,” Freen proposed, her voice steady despite the tumult inside.

“Almost all the tests are complete,” Faye countered gently. “We’re meeting them to discuss the surgery details and finalize everything. They’ve waited far too long for this moment.”

Taking a few more deep breaths, Freen finally steeled herself and made her way toward the door at the end of the corridor, flanked by Faye and Bright.

With a soft beep, Bright opened the door using his access card. Upon entering the enclosed corridor, Freen’s gaze fell upon a small girl seated in one of the waiting chairs outside the examination room.

“Hello there, Big Missy! What’s keeping you so occupied out here?” Faye greeted warmly, her face breaking into a bright smile. Leaning closer to Freen, she whispered, “That’s the child you’re going to be operating on.”

Freen noticed the young girl struggling to position the hospital ID band around her wrist, clearly looking for assistance. Kneeling beside her, Freen offered her support.

“Let me help you with that, kiddo,” she said, her voice soft and reassuring as she gently took the girl’s arm and adjusted the ID band into place. It was then that Freen’s eyes fell on the name inscribed upon it.

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Anne Patricia Armstrong

Thank you