Chapter 10
After bidding Vanessa farewell, Rian lingered at the school gates. Going home meant silence, and silence meant thinking—something he wanted to avoid at all costs.
So when a few teachers waved him over, smiling, he didn't brush them off like he usually did.
"Rian, we're heading out for drinks. Come with us this time," one said.
Normally, his answer would be no. But tonight, he surprised even himself. "...Sure."
The bar they chose was warm and buzzing, filled with easy laughter. Glasses clinked, music pulsed faintly in the background. For once, Rian let himself relax.
Julie—timid, quiet Julie—burst into laughter at a joke, nearly choking on her drink. Rian blinked, startled. He had never seen her laugh like that. It tugged a small smile from him before he could stop it.
The games started. A silly card game, forfeits that made everyone loosen up. Rian found himself laughing too, something he hadn't done in weeks.
"Rian," one teacher teased, nudging him, "isn't your partner coming? " Adrian always likes making an appearance.
Another chimed in, "We're all jealous, you know. Young, handsome, rich—and romantic too! You're lucky."
The table erupted in agreement.
Rian froze for a second. Lucky. If only they knew. His lips curved faintly, but his voice was flat. "No. He's not coming."
They only laughed, mistaking his tone for modesty.
The night ended too quickly. Everyone staggered out, flushed from drink. Julie could barely walk, leaning against the wall with glazed eyes.
"Someone should take her home," one teacher muttered.
"I'll do it," Rian said quietly.
He asked for her address, got it from one of the staff, and half-guided, half-carried Julie to his car. The ride was silent except for her occasional murmurs. By the time they arrived, she was clinging to him, head lolling on his shoulder.
He knocked at the door. A young woman—Julie's sister, maybe—opened it with wide eyes. "Oh my god, thank you. I'll take her."
Rian nodded, carefully transferring Julie into her arms. "She's just drunk. Make sure she drinks water."
The girl smiled gratefully. "Thank you, really."
As the door shut, Rian exhaled in relief and returned to his car. He didn't notice the smear of red lipstick staining his collar.
---
The drive home was quiet. Rian loosened his tie, the faint buzz of alcohol still warm in his system.
When he stepped into the house, he froze.
Something was different.
The faint glow of light spilled from the kitchen, and an unmistakable smell curled through the air—roasted chicken, herbs, garlic. His chest tightened.
"…What?"
Before he could move, footsteps approached. Adrian stepped out of the kitchen, dressed casually in a soft sweater and dark jeans, his hair a little messy, a smile stretched wide across his face.
"Hey, baby. Welcome home."
Rian's heart jolted. "Adrian? What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at the hospital."
Adrian waved a hand, stepping closer. "Dr. Rolanda said I could go. Said I'm fine."
Rian's brows knitted. "What? That doesn't make sense. She told me—"
"You can call her if you don't believe me." Adrian's smile never wavered, his tone light, almost playful.
He turned back toward the kitchen, the sound of sizzling filling the air again. "Dinner's almost ready. Don't just stand there."
Rian remained rooted in place, his pulse uneven. Something was wrong.
---
Rian forced a smile when Adrian peeked out of the kitchen again.
"I'll be in the bedroom," he muttered, already walking down the hall.
The moment the door clicked shut behind him, he pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered before pressing Dr. Rolanda's contact.
The line rang twice before she picked up.
"Mr. Johnson," she greeted briskly.
Rian's voice was tight. "Dr. Rolanda, I—I don't understand. Last time you said Adrian needed to stay under observation. But he's here. At home. He says you discharged him."
There was a pause, then her professional tone smoothed in. "Yes. His vitals stabilized overnight. Further observation was unnecessary. He's fine now."
Rian blinked, disbelief tightening his chest. "But… you told me—"
"Mr. Johnson," she cut in, her voice firmer now, like she was closing a door. "I made the medical judgment. He is perfectly capable of being at home. If you're worried, schedule a follow-up. But there's no need for alarm."
Rian's fingers dug into the phone. "You didn't even… contact me before discharging him and sending him home?"
Another silence. This one longer. Then her voice returned, clipped, hurried. "I've got patients to attend to. I have to go, Mr. Johnson."
The line went dead.
Rian stared at his phone, his pulse pounding. The words looped in his head.
Last time, she said observation was necessary.
Now she says he's fine.
And she hung up before I could ask more.
Something was off. Terribly off.
From the kitchen, Adrian's voice floated down the hall, warm, cheerful, ordinary.
"Dinner's ready, love!"
Rian's hand tightened around the phone.