Chapter {14}: Hospital

Chapter 14

Lolita's stomach twisted as she stepped into the hospital's pristine white hallway. The scent of antiseptic hung thick in the air, blending with the low hum of voices and the occasional beeping of machines. She tightened her grip on the briefcase as she approached the reception desk, her pulse quickening.

"I need details about my mother's ward," she said, keeping her voice steady.

The receptionist, was a young woman in her late twenties, nodded with a sharp eyes, as she skimmed through a folder. "Ward 304, third floor," she said, sliding a visitor's pass across the counter.

Without another word, Lolita took the elevator up, her thoughts racing. The weight of everything—Monica's games, Matteo's innocence, and her mother's fragile condition—pressed heavily on her shoulders. She had spent years learning to be strong, but right now, she felt like she was walking into something she wasn't prepared for.

The hallway on the third floor was quieter, lined with rooms where patients lay behind closed doors. When she reached Ward 304, she took a deep breath before pushing the door open.

Inside, a nurse was carefully dressing her mother, adjusting the IV line in her frail arm. Lolita's chest tightened at the sight. Her mother looked worse than before—her cheeks sunken, her breathing shallow, her once-dark eyes dulled by exhaustion.

The nurse glanced up. She was a woman in her late forties, with warm brown eyes and short, curled hair tucked under her cap. "Are you Lolita?" she asked, her voice gentle.

"Yes," Lolita replied, stepping closer to the bed.

The nurse nodded. "The doctor will see you soon," she said, finishing her work before adjusting the bedsheets around Lolita's mother.

Lolita swallowed hard before asking, "Where's Matteo?"

Mrs. Bells, as the name tag on her uniform read, gave a small smile. "Your little brother went with Waki to get something to eat for the afternoon. They should be back soon."

Lolita tensed at the mention of Waki. She hadn't seen much of Monica's right-hand man, but she didn't trust him. None of them were trustworthy. But before she could dwell on it, the door swung open, and Matteo's excited voice filled the room.

"Loli! Look!"

She turned just as he ran toward her, his small arms wrapping around her waist.

"I missed you," he said, grinning up at her.

Lolita forced a smile and ruffled his hair. "I missed you too, buddy."

Matteo held up a plastic bag. "Waki got me my favorite sandwich! And look—juice too!" He pulled out the items one by one, eager to show her.

Behind him, Waki leaned against the doorway, hands in his pockets. He was tall, lean, and wore a dark suit that barely fit the hospital's atmosphere. He gave her a nod.

"Good to see you, Lolita," he said.

Lolita's eyes narrowed slightly, but she kept her expression neutral. "Thanks for looking after Matteo," she said flatly.

"No problem," Waki replied, his tone casual. "Kid's got a big appetite."

Matteo grinned, already unwrapping his sandwich. "Waki is really nice, Loli! He told me cool stories while we were waiting in line."

Lolita didn't respond. Instead, she turned to her mother, who remained unmoving in the bed. Her chest rose and fell weakly, her eyelids fluttering slightly as if she could hear them but didn't have the strength to respond.

A knock on the door interrupted the moment. A doctor stepped in, his white coat crisp, a clipboard in hand. He was in his mid-fifties, with graying hair and deep lines on his face that suggested years of experience.

"Miss Lolita?" he asked, glancing at her.

"Yes," she said, straightening.

"Could we speak privately?"

Lolita hesitated, glancing at Matteo, who was too focused on his food to notice the shift in the room. Waki, however, gave her a knowing look before stepping forward.

"I'll keep an eye on him," he offered.

She didn't like the idea of leaving Matteo with him, but she had little choice. Nodding stiffly, she followed the doctor out of the room.

They walked a short distance down the hallway before stopping near a window overlooking the hospital's courtyard. The doctor turned to her, his expression serious.

"I understand your mother has been bedridden for a while," he began, scanning his notes. "She's suffering from tuberculosis, which has reached an advanced stage."

Lolita clenched her fists. "I know. But what does that mean exactly? Is she... is she dying?"

The doctor sighed. "Pulmonary tuberculosis, in its early stages, is treatable with antibiotics. However, your mother's condition has been neglected for too long. The infection has severely damaged her lungs, making it difficult for her to breathe on her own. She also has signs of malnutrition, which has weakened her body further."

Lolita felt a lump rise in her throat, but she forced herself to remain calm. "Is there anything that can be done?"

The doctor nodded slowly. "She needs intensive care, a strict regimen of antibiotics, and nutritional support. She's currently stable, but without proper treatment, her condition will deteriorate rapidly."

Lolita exhaled shakily. "How much time does she have?"

"It's hard to say," the doctor admitted. "A few months, maybe less, if her condition worsens."

Lolita's stomach dropped.

"She needs hospitalization and ongoing care," he continued. "But that comes at a cost." He hesitated. "From what I understand, someone—Monica, I believe—has already arranged payments for her treatment."

Lolita's jaw tightened. Of course, Monica had.

"She's being kept comfortable," the doctor assured her. "But I need you to understand, Miss Lolita, that even with treatment, the damage to her lungs is severe. There's a possibility she may never fully recover."

Lolita closed her eyes briefly, inhaling deeply. When she opened them, her expression was unreadable.

"I understand," she said finally.

The doctor gave a sympathetic nod. "We'll do what we can. But if there are any decisions to be made about her care, we'll need your consent."

Lolita nodded, her mind racing. Monica had paid for her mother's treatment, which meant she had another hand in Lolita's life. Another leash around her throat.

But at least her mother wasn't dead. Not yet.

She turned back toward the ward, her face hardening with determination

Matteo needed her. Her mother needed her