Shattered World

Romero sat in his office, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city. But he wasn’t looking. His eyes, hollow and distant, stared blankly at the desk in front of him. A soft knock on the door broke the silence.

“Mister Monteiro,” Pablo, his personal assistant, entered cautiously. Pablo had been his father’s assistant before working for Romero, and he was in his late forties. “There’s news,” he said, his voice low and trembling.

Romero didn’t respond. His hand gripped a framed photograph of his family–his parents, and younger sister, Isabella. He gazed at the photograph as he waited for Pablo to continue.

“There was a plane crash, your family’s plane,” Pablo continued.

The words landed like a physical blow. The photo frame slipped from Romero’s grasp and shattered against the hardwood floor. He didn’t flinch, though. The world around him seemed to spin, his mind reeling, refusing to accept the words.

“Gone?” Romero asked, his voice barely above a whisper, raw and cracked.

Pablo nodded, his face somber. “Sadly, there were no survivors.”

Romero clenched his fists, knuckles white. His vision blurred, and the silence that followed was louder than any sound. The weight of the loss crushed down on him, and he shot to his feet, knocking over his chair.

“That can’t be true,” Romero muttered, heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” Pablo asked, blocking his way.

“Get out of my way!” Romero growled, his voice laced with pain and panic.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t leave like this, Mister Romero. Please stay back and process the news,” Pablo pleaded, his voice tinged with worry.

Ignoring Pablo’s pleas, Romero pushed him aside and stormed out of the company building. The streets blurred as Romero sped down the winding road to the airport. His mind hurdled faster than the car, his thoughts a chaotic storm of grief and anger. How could his entire family be gone? It didn’t seem real. None of it did.

Suddenly, an oncoming truck pierced through his haze. His hands jerked the wheel to swerve, but it was too late. The sound of metal crunching and glass shattering filled the air as the car careened off the road, flipping over and slamming into a tree.

The world went black.

One week later, the sound of the car crashing was still ringing in Romero Monteiro’s ears when he woke up in a hospital room, the sterile white walls closing in on him. His body ached, his head throbbed, and his heart, well, his heart felt like it had been ripped from his chest.

It had been the worst day of his life, a day that started with him hearing the tragic news of his entire family perishing in a plane crash. They had been en route to a family vacation. One Romero had declined at the last minute due to business obligations. The weight of the guilt was suffocating. His family was gone, and he hadn’t been with them in their final moments.

And then, in his grief, he tried to find out the truth if they were really gone, speeding down the highway without a thought, tears blurring his vision. But everything went black, and he couldn’t even make it to the airport.

Now, here he was, trapped in a body that barely worked, trapped in a world where he was the only Monteiro left. Alone. A knock on the door jolted him out of his thoughts.

“Mister Monteiro,” Pablo greeted, entering the room with a clipboard. “I’ve signed the discharge papers. Are you ready to leave?”

Romero clenched his jaw, feeling the dull pain shoot up his legs. He wasn’t ready for anything, certainly not for life without his family.

“I’m sick of this place. They should have just let me die,” Romero mumbled.

Pablo's forehead knitted with a frown, but kept silent. He motioned the nurse who began preparing Romero for discharge, maneuvering his wheelchair closer to the bed.

Every moment felt like a betrayal to Romero. Why was he the one who had survived? Why wasn’t he on that plane? He said nothing as they wheeled him out of the hospital room, the cold, unwelcoming hallways reflecting his emotions. His expression was stone, his eyes glowering.

As they approached the exit, a flurry of footsteps echoed from around the corner. A young woman, her face pale with worry, nearly collided with them as she rounded the corner too fast. Her dark brown hair was disheveled, and her wide amber eyes were filled with panic. She looked like she had been crying for days, yet there was a fire in her eyes that refused to be dimmed.

“I’m so sorry!” she gasped, her voice tight with anxiety as she narrowly avoided hitting Romero’s wheelchair. She barely spared him a glance as she dashed toward the emergency wing, clearly in a hurry.

Romero didn’t care. He barely registered her existence. The world around him was nothing more than noise and shadows, anyway.

“Are we leaving or what?” Romero grumbled, the woman already fading from his thoughts as Pablo wheeled him out of the hospital.

Romero sat in the back seat of his white sedan as Pablo drove him through the busy streets of the city. The noise and chaos of the world outside seemed distant, muffled, like it belonged to someone else. Romero stared out the window, watching the blur of people going about their lives.

None of them knew what it was like to lose everything in a single day. None of them carried the burden of an entire legacy on their shoulders. They were just living. While he was trapped in a hell of his own making.

Romero’s mind drifted back to the hospital, to the feeling of being wheeled out like some broken thing. His hands balled into fists. He hated it. Hated being weak. Hated that he was still alive when his family was gone.

“I’ll need to clear your schedule for the next couple of weeks. You need time to recover,” Pablo said from the front seat, glancing at him through the rear view mirror.

Romero didn’t answer. He didn’t care about his schedule. He didn’t care about anything. The Monteiro empire was crumbling, and he couldn’t even bring himself to care about that.

Carmen Valiente pushed open the door to the hospital room where her older brother lay, her heart throbbing in her chest. Her brother, Diego had been admitted earlier that morning. The doctors had called, saying her attention was needed in the hospital. She had dropped everything in college to rush to his side.

“Diego,” Carmen whispered, her voice trembling as she approached the bed. Her brother lay there, hooked up to machines, looking frail in the sterile hospital bed. Carmen’s throat tightened. How did her brother get this ill without her knowing? She wanted to know what was wrong with her brother.

Carmen rushed out of the room and found herself in the dim hospital hallway, standing outside the doctor’s office. She clenched her fists, trying to steel herself for what was coming.

The door opened, and the doctor stepped out, his face grim. “Miss Valiente,” he said, gesturing for her to follow him inside.

As they sat down, the doctor, Federico, wasted no time. “Your brother’s condition has worsened significantly. Without a kidney transplant, his chances of survival are slim. The dialysis treatments are no longer enough.”

Carmen felt her stomach drop. “A transplant? Does Diego have kidney failure?”

“Yes. He didn’t tell you?” Doctor Federico asked, his brow rising in surprise.

“No, he didn’t tell me he was sick,” Carmen replied, feeling betrayed. “For how long now?”

“Six months. Diego has been visiting the hospital for a while now. Perhaps he didn’t want you to panic. That’s why he didn’t tell you,” Doctor Federico said, giving her a sympathetic look.

Carmen’s heart sank in disbelief, she ran a hand through her hair. “Why would he hide something like that from me?”

The doctor shook his head clueless. “You should ask him, but right now we need to act fast.”

“You said he needs a transplant but the waiting list…” Carmen trailed off, her mind racing.

“I’m afraid the waiting list is long,” Doctor Federico confirmed. “But there’s another option–if you’re a match, you could donate a kidney to him.

“I’ll get tested right away,” Carmen said almost immediately, without hesitating.

Doctor Federico nodded. “I’ll arrange for the tests immediately. But keep in mind, this is just the first step. Even if you’re a match, the surgery is complicated, and the recovery… it’s a lot to handle.”

Carmen took a deep breath and nodded. She had no choice. This was her brother, and she would do anything to save him, and that included dropping out of college to take care of his medical bills. He had been there for her, it was her turn to do the same even if he might not like it.

Carmen leaves the doctor’s office, her mind jumbling with a mix of emotions, fear, and worry. She couldn’t believe Diego had kept something like this from her for so long. The heaviness of what was to come passed down on her, but there was no time to wallow in that.

As she walked back toward his room, she fished her phone from her pocket and dialed Mariana. Her best friend was an anchor in moments like this. She hoped she’d picked up.

“Hey, Carmi. What’s up? No lectures today?” Mariana answered, her familiar voice instantly calming Carmen’s nerves.

“I did, but I left. Diego is in the hospital,” Carmen started, her voice breaking. “He needs a kidney transplant, and it’s bad, Mari. I didn’t even know he was sick. I’ll be heading back to school after this call to quit, so I can take care of him. But I need a job, something steady to cover his medical bills.”

Mariana gasped on the other end. “Oh my God, Carmi, I’m so sorry. You must be feeling terrible right now.”

“I feel so bad, Mari. I couldn’t even be there for my brother when he was always there for me, ever since our parents left us,” Carmen said, tears welling up her eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t blame yourself. I’m sure Diego had his reasons for not telling you,” Mariana interjected. “Listen, our hospital is actually recruiting live-in caregivers. It’s tough work, but the pay is decent, and it might give you the flexibility you need to be there for Diego. I can recommend you if you’re interested.”

“Yes! Please. I’ll take anything at this point. If you can recommend me, go ahead,” Carmen replied, not hesitating.

“I’ll make sure of it,” Mariana said firmly. “I’ll talk to my supervisor right after our call. Send me your resume. And, please, just hang in there, Carmi. I’ll see you after my shift.”

“Thank you,” Carmen said, and ended the call. She drew in a deep breath, trying to steady herself before pushing open the door to Diego’s room.

Inside, Diego lay still, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. He looked more fragile than ever, and it broke her to see him like this. She walked over to his bedside, her fingers brushing gently against his arm.

“Diego, why didn’t you ever tell me you were sick?” Carmen whispered, tears blurring her vision.

Carmen sat beside her brother, her eyes glued to the machines beeping steadily. “Why do you have to care for me and neglect yourself, huh? I’m so sorry for not paying attention to you,” she muffled, reaching for his hand and sobbing uncontrollably.

“Carmen,” Diego croaked, his eyes fluttering open. His hand lazily reached for her face. “Stop crying, it’s not your fault,” he said weakly, wiping her tears away.

Carmen sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Diego. I should have paid more attention to you,” she weeps.

“I didn’t want to bother you. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry,” Diego said, his voice husky, he felt a tear slide at the corner of his eyes.

As the room fell into an emotional tensity, Carmen’s phone chimed, disrupting the moment. She glanced at the phone and saw the caller. Carmen sat up, and cleared her throat. “Hi, Mari.”

“Hey, Carmi. I just spoke with my supervisor, and he’s interested in meeting you. Can you come to the office tomorrow by 9.a.m?” Mariana asked at the other end.