Room 208
The air hung heavy with unspoken anxieties as Iris walked the sterile hospital corridors. A year. It had been a year since she’d received the devastating news: Iñigo, her beloved boyfriend, was dead. The pain still felt raw, a constant ache in her chest. She'd mourned him fiercely, the void his absence left echoing in her heart. Little did she know, the truth was far more complicated, twisted by a mother's disapproval and a desperate attempt to keep them apart.
Iñigo’s mother, a woman whose disapproval Iris had always felt like a cold wind, had whisked him away to the States, a calculated move to sever their connection. She’d believed that distance, the vast expanse of the ocean, would be enough to erase Iris from Iñigo's life. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.
Dr. Millie’s voice, crisp and professional, broke through Iris’s somber thoughts. "Iris, you're assigned to assist the patient in Room 208. He was recently transferred from the U.S.A." The doctor handed her the file. Iris took it mechanically, her mind already racing.
The familiar chill that always accompanied thoughts of Iñigo's mother settled over her. This was no coincidence. A strange premonition tightened its grip on her, a knot of dread forming in her stomach. She felt a cold dread creeping up her spine. As she approached Room 208, a wave of nausea washed over her.
She hesitated, her hand trembling as she reached for the door handle. A deep breath, a silent prayer, and then—she opened the door.
The sight that greeted her stole the breath from her lungs. There he was, pale but undeniably Iñigo, lying in the hospital bed. Time seemed to stop. The world dissolved into a dizzying blur of disbelief and overwhelming emotion. A strangled gasp escaped her lips. He was alive.
The carefully constructed wall of grief she’d built around her heart crumbled. A torrent of emotions – shock, relief, disbelief, and a bitter taste of betrayal – flooded her. All the pain, the tears, the emptiness… all for nothing? The file slipped from her numb fingers, landing silently on the floor. He was alive, and his mother had lied.
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