A new kind of pain

Christian stared at me, I didn't back down. My eyes were moist, but I kept looking at him. 

"You said you'd help me get revenge on you. How can I hurt a man as powerful as you?" How can I bring you to your knees?

The corner of his mouth tugged into a wide grin. 

He relaxed, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his legs. He rubbed his palms together slowly in contemplation, "I'm not sure, to be honest. Maybe… make me fall in love with you, and walk away."

There was challenge in his voice, and the look in his eyes, though a contrast to the grin on his lips, told me he was serious.

I looked away, my doubts compelling me to. 

"You'd have to have a heart first."

He guffawed, and said nothing to my retort. 

Our food arrived and we ate in silence. There was nothing more to say.

He hadn't said what I wanted to hear, but he'd assured me no one would be able to hurt me as long as I was his wife. No one except him. 

By the end of the night, I was sure of only one thing. I meant nothing to Christian Gulf. And I'd been delusional all this time. There was no push and pull with him. No. He wasn't playing that kind of game. This was simply who he was and what I meant to him. Almost nothing.

Even after coming back, I rarely saw him. He was always at the office, or somewhere else, I wouldn't know. We rarely spoke except when we bumped into each other which had been seven times in the last two weeks.

Yes, I was counting.

Every chance she got, Clara had made sure to remind me that she still worked for the Gulf's despite my threat. I decided to ignore her, and everyone else who was making my life miserable…

***

The call came in one slow evening, it was an unknown number. 

I had just stepped out of the bathroom when I saw my phone vibrating on the bed. My heart thumped.

Faye, maybe? Or my parents? 

A small part of me still hoped they would try to reach out.

I swiped to answer. "Hello?" 

A voice, frail and weak, spoke. "My baby girl. How are you?"

The moment I heard it, I knew.

"Dad?" My voice trembled. "Dad, is that you?"

He coughed, a deep, dry sound that sent fear shooting through my veins.

I tried to focus on the words, but I couldn't help noticing how weak he sounded. 

"Dad, are you okay? You sound sick."

 "Where are you?" I immediately added.

I was scared. Something inside me twisted, a premonition of the worst. When I had first answered the call, I'd heard someone in the background calling for a nurse.

"Are you in a hospital?" My pulse skyrocketed. "Are you sick?"

He hesitated, then tried to brush it off. "It's nothing, sweetheart—"

"Dad," I cut him off, my throat tightening, "where are you?"

A pause. Then, reluctantly, he gave me the hospital's name.

I was already moving, yanking open my closet, pulling on the first dress I could find. I grabbed my bag and rushed out, my heart slamming against my ribs.

Outside, the air was thick and humid, but I barely felt it as I climbed into the Uber.

The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "Where to?"

I gave him the address, barely able to keep my voice steady.

As the car began to move, I pressed my hands together in my lap, fingers trembling. My breath came shallow, my chest felt tight.

Guilt sank its claws into me. I had spent years hating him, resenting him for abandoning me, and yet… if something happened to him, if I lost him now, what would I be left with? A lifetime of anger with nowhere to put it?

The moment the car stopped in front of the hospital, I shoved cash into the driver's hand and bolted out. My feet pounded against the polished floor as I raced through the lobby, straight to the VIP ward.

I barely registered the nurse at the front desk telling me I couldn't enter. I took out my phone and redialed dad's number.

"Tell me your room number," I said the moment he answered. He did.

I ran, my heart slamming against my ribs. The walls, the signs, the people, it all blurred together as I counted the numbers on the doors.

199.

200.

201.

I pushed the door open and froze. My eyes welled with tears. Dad was laying in bed and his skin was paler. His body was frail and thin.

He looked nothing like the man I remembered.

The nurse finally caught up to me and was about to drag me away, but dad told her it was fine. So she left.

Alone in the room with dad, a flood of emotions crashed into me at once. Guilt took the front seat, and I found myself at a loss for words. 

"What's wrong with you?" I cried. "Why are you here? Are you sick?"

Dad winced when he tried to sit up. I rushed forward and helped him, my hands trembling.

"You've grown so beautiful."

"Why won't you tell me what's wrong with you?" I wiped the tears that streamed down to my face with my hand. "Does it hurt?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he asked about me; what I'd studied, if I had graduated, how life had been the last four years. As if trying to catch up on lost time. 

My chest tightened, guilt overwhelmed me, causing my tears to be an unending stream. 

"I'm sorry, princess." My father said with a wishful expression.

Princess. I hadn't heard that pet name in a long time. My father never failed to show me how important I was to him. He'd called me a princess and treated me like one. When I'd get scolded by Mrs Callisto, he'd defend me. He'd console me. When I was younger, he'd carry me on his legs and sing to me till I was happy again. He was almost never around, but when he was, I'd feel his presence because he made sure to spend every free minute with me. 

So how could that love simply vanish? Why was I abandoned by him?

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't put the thought away. I couldn't stop thinking about how easily he'd left me. Mum I could understand. We weren't very close and she was barely there as I grew. I couldn't even find a memory where we laughed together. But he… him of all people shouldn't have thrown me away.

"If you don't tell me why you're here, I'll look for a doctor and ask. Should I do that? Should I?"

He smiled, and it broke my heart. 

I could still picture his old self as he smiled. My father's smile was the best thing there was to me. The corner of his eyes would crinkle and I'd see all of his perfect white dentition. Right now, he was struggling with a small movement of his mouth.

"You're still as feisty as ever. Still so exuberant."

I stood up with a huff. Making sure he could see the frown on my face before I turned towards the door.

"Pancreatic cancer." He called after me.

The world seemed to stop. A fresh batch of tears came streaming down my face. I stifled a moan with my hands on my mouth, my sobs threatening to get loud. I stood, still facing the door. I didn't want dad to see me like this. He was the one suffering, and yet it felt like my entire world was about to collapse.

"Maybe, this is my punishment for abandoning you." His voice carried a pain I didn't think he would ever feel after leaving me. "My doctors said I have about five months left to live. If I'm lucky." He said, shocking me even further.