Where Have You Gone

Chapter 4️⃣1️⃣

The next morning started with hope. Becky had her breakfast and left for the hospital. At once Becky reached the hospital, Irin and Richie left her with Anne to finish some leftover job, and to give Freen some time with Becky.

Freen has been to Anne's room already once to see if Becky is back. Richie rushed Irin saying it seems like it is going to rain, we should go soon, the roads get blocked when it rains.

When Richie was tying his shoe laces, Becky softly asked Irin, "how does the sky looks?"

"Grey, almost black. About to rain anytime soon", Irin said softly. Both left in minutes.

The time is around 3 pm, Becky fed Anne the food provided by the hospital and has her's. Freen has visited Anne twice, once with the nurse and once with her team of junior doctors.

Becky leaned her head gently against the hospital window. She couldn’t see the rain, but she could hear it—the steady tap against the glass, the occasional stutter of wind. The rhythm calmed her, the way it always had.

Anne was sleeping again, curled beneath the thin white sheets, her breathing light.

She reached over, brushing a soft curl from Anne’s forehead. So small. So brave.

“You okay?”

The voice was soft, close, and familiar in a way Becky didn’t understand.

She turned slightly toward it, already knowing.

Freen.

“Just listening,” Becky said.

Freen stepped further into the room. “She’s resting well. Her vitals are steady.”

“I know,” Becky replied. “I can hear it in her breathing.”

Freen smiled, though Becky couldn’t see it. “You’re good at that. Listening.”

“It’s the only way I know how to stay close to people now,” Becky said, then paused, surprised at how easily the truth came out. “It helps me feel less… left behind.”

Freen’s smile faded into something softer. “You’re not left behind” She wanted to say it loudly.

Becky turned her head fully, facing her, though her gaze stayed fixed into space.

“You talk like someone who knows what that feels like.”

Freen hesitated. “I do.”

A silence passed between them—not awkward, but rich with something unspoken.

“You don’t act like a surgeon,” Becky said.

“Cold and clinical?”

“No.” Becky gave a quiet smile. “Like someone who forgets to be human. You don’t forget.”

Freen let out a breath. “I try not to.”

Becky tilted her head. “Why are you still here? You’ve checked her chart three times already.”

Freen didn’t move. “Because I know it’s hard to sit here alone. Even when you pretend it’s not.”

Something in Becky’s chest shifted at that.

Freen didn’t speak again. She just walked over slowly and pulled the empty chair closer to Becky’s, not touching her, not crowding her—just near enough that Becky could feel her presence.

“I used to love the sound of rain,” Becky said, surprising herself. “Before.”

“Before what?”

Becky didn’t answer.

Freen didn’t press.

Instead, she said softly, “I like to think rain doesn’t ask for permission to fall. It just… shows up. Cleans things. Starts over.”

Becky’s hand curled slightly around the edge of her chair. “You talk like someone who writes a lot.”

Freen froze for just a second.

“I used to,” she said carefully. “But I stopped.”

Becky turned her face toward her, studying the air between them. “Maybe you should start again.”

Freen met her eyes. Or tried to. There was something haunting in Becky’s stillness—something wounded, but not shattered.

“I will,” she said. “Maybe I will.”

Becky gave a faint nod, more to herself than to Freen.

She didn’t know why she trusted her.

Didn’t know why her voice made something inside her soften.

Didn’t know why this woman—this stranger—felt like an echo of something she’d forgotten how to hold.

But she didn’t pull away.

And when Freen stood to go, Becky whispered, “Thank you. For staying.”

Freen paused at the door. “Anytime.”

As the door clicked softly shut, Becky turned her head back toward the window.

She still didn’t know who Dr. Freen really was.

But she liked her.

And after everything, that scared her more than she expected.