Chapter 8
I met Patrick in college. We signed up for the same elective but both showed up late to the first class.
The teacher joked that we must’ve forgotten the time on a date.
I still remember how red my face turned that day.
After that, every elective class, Patrick’s friends would tease him. “Look, look, your rumored girlfriend’s here.”
The turning point came before a class near semester’s end. I was walking to the classroom with my books when Patrick stopped me.
Blood was seeping from his arm, his friend standing beside him.
“Classmate, could you ask the teacher for leave? We need to get to the hospital.”
I glanced at the bloody wound and nodded quietly.
The elective teacher didn’t mind much, just told me to pass the semester assignment to Patrick. But I didn’t have Patrick’s contact, and I foolishly agreed anyway.
I didn’t know his department or building, only remembered he wore a basketball jersey. So I waited at the court three days straight.
Finally, I saw Patrick and his friend walking over with a basketball. I hurried up and handed him the note.
“Hey, this is the assignment. Email it to her before finals.”
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Chapter 8
Patrick took it and stared at me for several seconds.
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“I don’t quite get this assignment. Leave your number–I’ll ask you details later.”
I hesitated but gave him my phone number. Everything after that fell into place.
Patrick started pursuing me. Even after learning about my heart condition and limitations, he never minded. He even studied cardiology for me.
He was already in med school but specialized in cardiology–for me.
Thinking of this, my heart aches.
All my earlier doubts suddenly made sense.
Why Patrick “coincidentally” kept bumping into me, why he knew my preferences during my hospital stay–proof he loved me
But how could I forget him?
I could forget anyone except Patrick, the only person willing to cherish
- me.
I fought back tears, staring at the ceiling.
Thankfully, I’ve remembered everything. I swear I’ll stay with Patrick forever.
I’ve been in the ICU a full week, and the nurses still won’t move me to a regular room. Truthfully, I can tell this recovery’s harder than last time.
Still, I asked the doctor, “Is it serious? When can I transfer back?”
The doctor avoided my eyes.
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“Don’t rush. You lost a lot of blood–recovery takes time. The ICU lets us monitor you closely.
“You’ll move back soon.”
I nodded helplessly.
Patrick walked in, exchanged a look with the doctor, then turned to me.
“What’s wrong? Don’t like it here?”
“I just want to move to a regular ward. Being here makes me feel like something bad could happen any moment now…” My voice trailed off.
It was nothing but lingering fear–patients in the ICU could take a turn for the worse at any time.
Having just got my memory back, I didn’t want to keep Patrick waiting any longer.
Patrick ruffled my hair, teasing, “Well then, I’ll talk to the doctor again later. See if we can set you free.”
