I woke up at 10:00 a.m., my head pounding like a drum. The ache throbbed relentlessly, and I groaned, burying my face in the pillow. Maybe a bath would help—I thought, dragging myself up.
I turned on the tap, letting the cold water fill the bathtub. Shivering, I stepped in, my body recoiling at first, then slowly adjusting. But as the cold water touched my skin, my mind betrayed me. Memories of Jeremy flooded back—the laughter, the kisses, the heartbreak—and the pain in my head deepened.
I sank beneath the water, hoping it would numb the ache. But the deeper I went, the more suffocating the memories became. I fought to hold my breath, searching the dark waters for him, for some sign of comfort. My limbs flailed, struggling upward, desperate for air. Then, suddenly, a glimmer of light appeared. I swam toward it with all my strength.
I broke the surface with a gasp—and reality crashed back. I was still in the bathtub. Jeremy wasn't there. I shivered, alone, and forced myself out of the water, dressing in black shorts and a blue shirt.
Breakfast didn't help. My head throbbed harder with every bite, so I poured a glass of water, hoping it would calm me. It helped a little. After breakfast, I headed toward the sitting room, but dizziness overtook me. The room spun, my vision blurred, and the next thing I knew, I was collapsing to the floor.
"Laranie! Laranie!"
Mom's panicked voice cut through the haze. I could barely open my eyes, only catching glimpses of her tear-streaked face.
"She's burning up. We need to take her to the hospital!" Dad's voice was firm but frantic.
I barely registered anything as Dad scooped me up and rushed me to the car. The world became a blur of flashing lights and rain-slicked streets as we drove to London City International Hospital.
Inside, a team of nurses wheeled me on a stretcher through bright, sterile hallways. Machines beeped and lights flashed. I drifted in and out of consciousness, shivering and exhausted.
Hours later, a doctor appeared, file in hand.
"So, doctor…how is she?" Dad asked, pacing nervously.
"She's fine, but…" the doctor hesitated. "She has very strong micro-synod malaria."
Mom gasped. "How did this happen?"
"It's caused by stress, dehydration, and lack of proper nutrition," the doctor explained. "She stopped eating and drinking properly after her breakup with Jeremy."
Dad nodded knowingly. "She's been crying constantly for over a week."
The doctor smiled gently. "She'll recover fully with rest and hydration. You may check on her now."
Mom and Dad entered my room, finding me asleep. Mom called softly, "Laranie, honey, how are you feeling?"
I stirred, my voice weak. "A little better…"
"The doctor says it's micro-synod malaria," Mom explained. "It came from stress and neglecting yourself. You can't let heartbreak control your health."
I nodded, thinking about Jeremy…then remembered Louis. I sat up slightly, turning to Mom.
"Mom…can you do me a favor?" I asked.
"Anything, dear," she said.
"Can you call Louis? I want him to know where I am."
"Of course, honey. Get some rest first."
I drifted back onto the bed, my mind slowly calming. An hour later, a familiar voice reached my ears. Louis.
"Yeah…yeah, Mom, I'm at the hospital. Checking on Laranie."
I opened my eyes to see him standing at my bedside. Relief and warmth flooded me.
"Hi, Laranie," he said softly, kneeling beside the bed.
"Hey," I murmured.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better…because you're here," I admitted.
Louis smiled, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I missed you so much these past weeks."
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I… I was stressed because of Jeremy. But I want you to know—I choose you now. Jeremy is in the past."
Louis' eyes softened. "I know. I just wanted you to realize the truth yourself—that he wasn't meant for you."
Tears slipped down my cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Louis."
He wiped them gently. "No, don't cry. I love you as you are."
We sat together, talking and laughing, the tension slowly dissolving. My heart felt lighter.
By 1:00 p.m., the doctor returned to check on me, ready to discharge me.
"So, Laranie, how are you feeling now?" the doctor asked.
"Much better, thank you."
"You'll be discharged shortly. A nurse will remove your IV and cover the site. Who will take you home?"
"Louis," I said, pointing to him.
He leaned closer, kissing me softly before helping me sit up. "Ready to go?"
"Yeah," I whispered, smiling through my lingering weakness.
As the nurse removed my IV and dressed the site, Louis held my hand, offering silent support.
"Let's go home," I said.
"Okay," he replied, brushing my hair gently from my face. "But remember—we have all the time in the world to make up for lost moments."
I nodded, finally feeling safe, loved, and ready to move forward. Jeremy was in the past. Louis was my present. And for the first time in weeks, I could breathe.