DARIUS POV
Everything was blurry at first. Bright lights overhead. The faint, steady beep of a machine nearby. My head ached, and my throat felt like sandpaper.
I blinked a few times, vision slowly clearing. The walls white, pale curtains the smell of sterile air.
I was in a hospital.
How the hell did I end up here?
I tried to sit up, but a sharp ache shot through my chest, and I let out a low groan.
"Thank God."
I turned my head—slowly—and found Alina standing near the bed. She looked relieved and stressed at the same time.
""You scared the hell out of us Sir" Alina said, standing beside the bed now, arms crossed. "What happened?"
My throat felt like sandpaper. "I blacked out."
She nodded, her expression tight . "You didn't answer your phone. Your mother kept calling you nonstop… then she started calling me." She paused. "She insisted on speaking with you. I didn't know what else to do—I had to tell her."
"She might be on her way now," she added.
I let out a quiet sigh. Of course she was.
Alina gave a small nod. "She's probably already in the building. And while you were out, they ran a bunch of tests. Bloodwork, scans, everything."
I closed my eyes for a second. The beeping beside me felt louder now, more deliberate.
A knock came at the door. A nurse poked her head in. "Mr. Vale? The doctor will be with you shortly. But first we'll need a moment alone."
Alina looked down at me, waiting for a cue. I gave a slight nod.
She stepped out quietly. A few minutes passed. Then the door opened again, with my mom and Alina walking in.
"Oh my God, Dari-bear."
"Mum," I murmured, voice hoarse.
She rushed to the bedside like she hadn't aged a day since my teenage years. Same Chanel perfume. Same tight curls. Same fierce love in her eyes.
"You told me you were going in for a routine check-up," she said, voice cracking at the edges. "Now I get a call saying you're in the emergency room unconscious?"
"I was going to, but I had an event I needed to handle this evening ," I muttered. "I didn't expect—"
"That's the problem, baby. You never expect. You work and work and work until your body gives out. You think I won't notice? That I'll just sit back and watch you run yourself down for a damn company?"
I sat up slightly, wincing at the pull in my chest. "Mom… I'll be fine. You're overthinking this."
She gave me a look that cut right through me.
"I just need a little rest," I added, forcing a small, tired smile. "That's all. I'll be fine."
Her hand gripped mine, soft but trembling. "You are all I have, Darius."
I didn't know what to say. Nothing would make her feel safe right now. So I stayed quiet, holding her hand.
My mom sank into the seat beside me and just sat quiet, lost in her thoughts.
Alina was still in the room, standing near the end of the bed, when she suddenly looked up from her phone.
"Before I forget—Ella, the girl who was there when you collapsed… she's been in the reception area this whole time."
I blinked, slow. "She's still here?"
"She waited for hours," Alina said. "I was going to let her go, but I thought I should check first. Do you want me to say anything to her specifically? Something to make sure she doesn't talk?"
I glanced toward the clock on the opposite wall. Nearly 2:10 a.m.
I shook my head. "No. Just let her go home. She doesn't need to be dragged into this any further."
Alina gave a short nod and turned to leave—only to pause as the door opened again.
A man in a white coat stepped in, a clipboard tucked under one arm. "Good evening," he said, offering a polite nod. "Mrs. Vale, Ms. Alina… I'll need a moment alone with Mr. Vale."
Alina glanced at me, already moving toward the door, but my mother didn't budge. She stood, squaring her shoulders.
"Excuse you?" Her tone was sharp. "Dr. Hakem, what do you mean you need a moment? I'm his mother."
The doctor adjusted his glasses. "I understand, ma'am, but the test results are in, and I'd prefer to speak to Mr. Vale privately first—"
"It's fine," I cut in, my voice rough but steady. "She can stay. Just tell me what the results are. Let's get it over with."
Dr. Hakem hesitated, then gave a small nod. "Alright," he said. "Let's begin."
How are you feeling?"
"Alive," I said dryly. "Which I assume is a good sign."
He gave me a tight-lipped smile that didn't reach his eyes. "We've run all the preliminary tests, and… well, I'll be honest with you. What we're seeing in your scans is highly unusual. The condition in your heart—it's progressing aggressively."
My mother's grip tightened on my hand.
Dr. Hakem took a breath, then continued, his voice lower now, careful. "It appears your heart muscle is deteriorating at a rate we rarely see. We haven't been able to pinpoint the exact cause yet, but… it's failing. Rapidly."
My chest went hollow. Cold.
"How long?" I asked, cutting through the silence.
His eyes met mine, steady but full of something that felt too much like pity. "If the progression continues at its current pace… thirty days. Maybe more."
I didn't speak.
My mother gasped—sharp and shattering. "No," she whispered, stepping toward the doctor. "No, no, no. You help him. You fix him. Please—he's my only son."
"I know this is difficult," he said softly, glancing between us. "We'll discharge you with medication to manage the symptoms—fatigue, shortness of breath, pain. We'll do everything we can to keep you comfortable. But… this isn't something we can reverse, we haven't seen anything like this before ."
She reached for his coat, clutching it with both hands. "He's not just anyone. He's my baby. Please. Don't just write him off."
He gently took her hands and lowered them from his jacket. "We're not giving up. But we also don't want to give you false hope."
I watched it all from the bed—my mother's tears, the doctor's quiet retreat.
And I felt… nothing.
No fear. No panic. Just this quiet numbness, like the world had been drained of color. Thirty days. Not metaphorically. Not poetically. Real, numbered days.
And I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do with them.