If I Could Dance With You Again

IICDWYA: 54

Chapter 54

The weeks had slipped by in a blur of rehearsals, meetings, and late-night calls. Aaliyah and Soonyoung's relationship blossomed quietly, their affection now open among friends. Yet, like any couple, they had their disagreements — small sparks of frustration that fizzled as quickly as they came. Life was steady, imperfect, but beautiful.

Until the morning everything changed.

Aaliyah woke with a pounding headache, the kind that pressed against her skull like a vice. She tried to sit up, but the room spun violently. Her breath caught, shallow and uneven. Before she could steady herself, her body gave way. She tumbled from the bed, the world fading into black.

Hours passed — Aaliyah didn't know how many. But her phone, lying on the nightstand, had triggered an emergency alert. A health-monitoring app linked to Wren's clinic had detected irregular breathing patterns.

Wren, already in the middle of her shift, froze when the notification flashed across her screen. Emergency detected. Patient: Aaliyah Brielle.

Her heart lurched. Without hesitation, she grabbed her bag and rushed out, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios.

By the time she reached the villa, she found Aaliyah sprawled on the floor, unconscious, her skin pale, her breaths uneven.

"Aaliyah!" Wren dropped to her knees, checking her pulse, her training kicking in despite the panic clawing at her chest. Relief washed over her when she felt the faint rhythm of life beneath her fingertips.

But it wasn't enough.

She pulled out her phone, dialing emergency services. "This is Dr. Wren Lee. I have a patient unconscious, irregular breathing. I need an ambulance immediately."

As she waited, Wren's mind churned. She knew Aaliyah's medical history — the terms, the risks, the quiet battles she had never shared with Ruby or the others. It was a trust built in silence, a bond forged in confidentiality.

Ruby didn't know. And Wren intended to keep it that way, at least for now. Aaliyah had chosen secrecy, and Wren respected that.

But watching her friend lying helpless on the floor, Wren felt the weight of that secret pressing harder than ever.

The sirens arrived quickly, the paramedics rushing in with practiced efficiency. Wren briefed them in clipped, professional tones, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.

"She's stable but unconscious. Breathing irregular. Possible neurological involvement. I'll accompany her."

They lifted Aaliyah onto the stretcher, the straps securing her fragile form. Wren followed, her eyes never leaving her friend.

Hours later, in the sterile quiet of the hospital, Aaliyah stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open, the harsh white light above her blurring into focus.

"Wren?" Her voice was weak, barely audible.

"I'm here." Wren leaned close, her tone gentle but firm. "You collapsed. You scared me half to death."

Aaliyah's lips trembled. "How long...?"

"Long enough," Wren said, squeezing her hand. "But you're safe now."

Aaliyah closed her eyes, guilt flickering across her face. "Ruby doesn't know."

"And she won't," Wren assured her. "Not unless you want her to. This stays between us."

Aaliyah nodded faintly, relief mingling with exhaustion. She trusted Wren — not just as a doctor, but as a friend who carried her secrets without judgment.

As the machines hummed softly around them, Wren sat by Aaliyah's bedside, her mind heavy with questions. How long could they keep this hidden? How many more times would she have to rush to save her friend?

For now, though, she focused on the present — on the steady rise and fall of Aaliyah's chest, on the fragile thread of life she had fought to protect.

And in the quiet of that hospital room, Wren made a silent vow: she would guard Aaliyah's secret, but she would also guard her life. Whatever it took.

The sterile hum of the hospital room pressed against Aaliyah's ears as she stirred awake. The faint beeping of machines was steady, but her head still throbbed, a dull ache that reminded her of the collapse. She blinked, adjusting to the harsh white light overhead, only to find Wren Willow Lee standing at the foot of her bed, arms crossed, her expression sharp.

"You really scared me half to death," Wren said, her voice low but firm. "Do you have any idea what it felt like, finding you unconscious on the floor?"

Aaliyah swallowed, guilt rising in her chest. "I... I didn't mean to. I thought it was just another headache."

"That's exactly the problem," Wren snapped, though her eyes softened almost immediately. "You keep brushing it off. Headaches, dizziness, irregular breathing — these aren't things you ignore, Aaliyah. You're my friend, but you're also my patient now, whether you like it or not."

A knock interrupted them. A nurse stepped inside, holding a folder. "Dr. Lee, the lab results."

Wren accepted the papers quickly, flipping through them with practiced hands. The nurse hesitated, glancing between them. "Technically, you're not the attending physician..."

"I know," Wren said, her tone clipped. "I'm an OB-GYN, not a neurologist. But she's my friend. I need to see this."

The nurse gave a small nod and left, leaving Wren standing in silence, her brow furrowed as she scanned the numbers.

Aaliyah watched her, voice trembling. "Is it bad?"

Wren shook her head, exhaling. "I can't interpret everything — this isn't my specialty. But nothing looks alarming. Still, I'm not taking chances. I asked for a neurologist to review everything. You've been telling me about these headaches for weeks, and I should've pushed harder before."

Minutes later, the door opened again. A middle-aged man in a white coat stepped in, introducing himself as Dr. Han, the neurologist on duty. He greeted them with calm professionalism, then took the folder from Wren.

"Let's see," he murmured, scanning the results. He looked up at Aaliyah, his expression reassuring. "Everything is fine. The scans show no abnormalities. Your headaches are likely stress-related, possibly migraines. Nothing life-threatening."

Relief flooded the room like a wave. Aaliyah sagged against the pillows, tears pricking her eyes. "So... I'm okay?"

Dr. Han nodded. "Yes. But you need rest. And you need to take these headaches seriously. Migraines can be debilitating if ignored. I'll prescribe something to help manage them, but lifestyle adjustments are just as important."

When the neurologist left, Wren Willow Lee sat down beside Aaliyah, her shoulders finally relaxing. "See? You're fine. But don't think for a second that means you can keep ignoring this. I don't care if it's not my specialty — I'll drag you to every department in this hospital if I have to."

Aaliyah managed a weak smile. "You sound more like my sister than my doctor."

"Good," Wren said firmly. "Because I'm both right now. And I don't ever want to walk into a room and find you like that again. Do you understand?"

Aaliyah nodded, her chest tightening with gratitude. "I understand. Thank you, Wren. For everything."

Wren's eyes softened, though her voice remained steady. "You don't have to thank me. Just promise me you'll take care of yourself. That's all I want."