THANYA'S POV:
The heavy weight in my chest, the secret I've carried for two long years, can finally be revealed. The memory is a shard of glass embedded in my heart, as sharp and painful as if it happened yesterday. But now, I can share the burden with the one person it truly belongs to. I can finally tell my brother everything.
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The day he was in the hospital, the sterile, white walls of the waiting area felt like a cold, airless tomb. The rhythmic, monotonous beeping from the Intensive Care Unit, where my brother lay suspended between life and death, was a constant, agonizing metronome counting down the seconds of our helplessness. Outside the ICU door, a figure was crumpled on the floor, his body shaking with a profound, earth-shattering grief that seemed too large for his slender frame. It was Thyme.
He was a mess of tears and choked sobs, his voice a raw, broken whisper. "It's all my fault," he chanted, the words a desperate, self-flagellating prayer. "It's all my fault. He wouldn't be in there if I had just been careful. I should be the one inside, not him! Please, let it be me, not him."
The sight of him, the bright, cheerful boy I knew from school, in such a state of utter devastation, broke my heart. I knelt beside him and pulled him into a desperate hug, trying to offer what little comfort I could. "Thyme, please, calm down," I pleaded, my own voice thick with unshed tears. "It's not your fault. We all know that if the roles were reversed, P'Meta would have done the same for you. So please, stop blaming..."
But the words froze in my throat. I couldn't hold back my own tears anymore. I wanted to be strong for him, but the image of my brother, pale and still behind the glass, a web of tubes and wires his only connection to this world, was a constant, searing pain. I lost myself in the moment, crying with him, our shared grief a raw and painful anthem in the suffocating silence.
Suddenly, a voice, a familiar voice filled with a panic so cold it burned, echoed through the waiting area. "THANYA! WHAT HAPPENED!"
I flinched, my body recoiling from Thyme as if I'd been struck. It was my father. His voice, a mixture of worried concern for my brother and a simmering rage I had never heard before, made a sudden, primal fear grip my heart. He was there, with my mother, and their arrival shattered the fragile silence. I scrambled to my feet, facing them with a trembling body.
"Fa… Father," I stuttered, my voice barely audible.
His eyes, usually warm and calm, were now two burning coals of fury fixed on Thyme. "Is that boy the one who caused your brother's accident?"
The accusation was a physical blow. "Father, Thyme didn't cause this! He saved him! Someone else is responsible, and you need to stop—" I tried to explain, but he cut me off, his expression a mask of cold anger I had never seen on him. This was a man I didn't know. He was a stranger, and for the first time in my life, I was terrified of him.
"Stop protecting that boy!" he roared, his voice low and menacing. "He is the cause of your brother's misfortune! He should be nowhere near him!" The pressure in the room became unbearable. My legs felt like lead. I wanted to defend Thyme, to shout the truth, but the words were trapped in my throat. My body seemed to freeze, paralyzed by a fear I didn't understand.
"Uncle, I didn't mean to…" Thyme said, his voice trembling, but he didn't run. He stood up, his face still streaked with tears, his shoulders squared, ready to take the blame. It was a moment of fierce, unshakeable loyalty. In that moment, I realized the depth of his love for my brother—it was a force greater than his fear.
"Don't you dare call me Uncle!" my father spat, his face contorted in disgust. "I don't want to be associated with people like you! All people like you can bring is misfortune. You make everyone around you suffer, just like that boy who killed my brother! I will not let my son suffer the same fate! I will never forgive people like you, so leave before I do something you will regret!"
The words hung in the air, cold and venomous. Who was he talking about? My father had always told us he was an orphan; his past was a sealed book to us. What did he mean, "people like you"? The mystery of his past was a distraction, though. Thyme was still standing there, unmoving, refusing to back down.
"So… sorry, Uncle," Thyme said, his voice now steadier, his eyes burning with an unbreakable resolve. "I won't leave. Even if you force me to, I won't go. I'm not leaving until I know Meta is safe."
He was pushing my father. He was standing on the edge of a cliff, and his heart was telling him that he would be completely lost if he didn't see my brother open his eyes.
"You're testing my patience, boy!" my father bellowed, his face turning a dark shade of red. He balled his hand into a fist, the muscles in his arm coiling tight. Then, with a sudden, vicious motion, he swung.
The sound of his fist connecting with Thyme's cheekbone was a sickening thud that echoed in the silent waiting room. Thyme's head snapped to the side, and he collapsed onto the tiled floor, a groan of pain escaping his lips.
"Father! What are you doing!" The fear that had paralyzed me was finally gone, replaced by a surge of righteous fury. I rushed to Thyme, his lips already bleeding, his body trembling from the impact. I wanted to scream at him to leave, to run, but when I looked into his eyes, I saw it—a fierce, unyielding determination. He was not a boy in love; he was a warrior fighting for his world. My mother, who had been trying to hold my father back, was now helpless against his rage. He was a beast, an animal I had never known.
I couldn't understand why they were acting this way. I had always thought my parents were more open-minded than others. I had always believed they were different. But this… this was beyond comprehension. The wealth and power they had gained over the years had hardened their hearts, but I couldn't forgive them for this cruelty.
"I will not leave, even if you kill me," Thyme said, pushing himself up, his eyes now blazing with a raw, visceral anger, not for himself, but for my brother.
"I know why you're acting like this! It's because you were expecting your son to have a girlfriend, but you discovered he's dating a boy!" Thyme's accusation was a final, desperate act of defiance, and I knew why he was doing it. He knew my brother would wake up and look for him, and he had to be there. He would take any punishment to ensure he could be there when my brother woke up.
"How dare you!" my father shrieked, grabbing Thyme by the collar. But Thyme just looked at him, his gaze unwavering, defiant, as if my father's rage meant nothing. I couldn't understand his thoughts then, but I knew with a certainty that chilled me to the bone: he would never back down.
"I know you hate people like me, and it's sad to hear what happened to your brother, but his relationship and my relationship with your son are never related to each other!" Thyme's voice, though still raw with emotion, was steady and firm. "Don't blame me for the sins of others. My love for your son is not a sin, and I will fight back no matter what!"
I stood frozen, stunned by his words. The boy I knew, the quiet, cheerful Thyme, was gone. In his place was a resolute figure, someone I never knew had such strength. He was a paradox, a whirlwind of defiance and unshakable respect. He was speaking to a man who had just assaulted him, a man he could have seen as a monster, but his words were laced with a profound, almost heartbreaking empathy for my father's past. That was why I loved him. I loved him for my brother, and I knew in my heart that no one in the world could love Meta as fiercely as Thyme did.
My father's laughter was a cold, humorless sound that sent a chill down my spine. It was the laugh of a man who had completely lost touch with reality. "You have a sharp tongue, boy. But all of you are the same. And you... you just look like the guy who made my brother suffer." He took a step closer, his eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Thyme's face. "I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me earlier, but I'm sure of it now. You just look like him, and that is why I will never let you get close to my son!"
My father raised his fist again, his arm coiling back for another brutal punch. But before he could strike, a frantic voice cut through the air.
"Uncle, please don't hurt our friend!" Dom pleaded, rushing toward them. At the same time, Lance, his face a mask of controlled fury, grabbed my father's arm, his grip surprisingly firm.
This was our chance. This was the opening I had been waiting for. I ran to Dom, my voice a desperate whisper. "Dom, please, help me get Thyme out of here! The more he stays, the more complicated it will get. Please, I don't want this to become bigger!" Dom nodded, his face grim, and immediately moved to grab Thyme's arm.
"Father, please stop!" I yelled, pulling on his other arm, doing everything I could to free Lance's grip and de-escalate the situation. "Lance, please, forgive my father. Help me move Thyme to a different place… this is not a good time for a fight!"
Luckily, Lance let go of my father, and he and Dom worked together to pull Thyme away. "Let go of me, please!" Thyme cried out, struggling against their grasp, his eyes never leaving my brother's ICU door. It was a heart-wrenching sight, but we knew it was the only way.
"Sorry, Thyme, but we have to go now," Dom said, his voice filled with an apology that was both sincere and final. They dragged Thyme out of the waiting area, his muffled pleas for them to let him go slowly fading into the distance. It was a painful, necessary act, and I knew it was breaking Thyme's heart to leave.
The waiting room fell silent after they were gone. My father's rage seemed to drain from him, leaving behind a cold, desolate silence. Moments later, a doctor came out to explain that my brother was in a comatose state, but they were hopeful he would wake up within a week. As it turned out, my brother's strength proved them wrong. He opened his eyes after just three days.
"Brother, you're finally awake!" I exclaimed, a wave of joyful relief washing over me. I immediately called for the doctor, and after a thorough check, they confirmed he was fine, just weak and in need of rest.
My joy, however, was short-lived. I was expecting my brother to ask for Thyme, but he didn't. He looked past me, his eyes searching the room for my parents. I wanted to ask him if he remembered Thyme, but my father and mother chose that exact moment to enter the room, their faces a mixture of relief and a cold, satisfied finality. The opportunity was lost.
Over the next few days, the doctors observed him, and to confirm his memory wasn't affected, they showed him his class picture. He was able to confidently name every single one of his classmates. But my heart sank when I remembered that Thyme was absent that day due to sickness. It was my last chance.
"Uhmm, Phi," I began, my voice trembling with a desperate hope. "I remember you had a classmate who was sick when this picture was taken, right? Do you remember him?"
His answer was a cold, chilling blade to the heart. "What do you mean, sick? Everyone in this picture is my classmate. No one is missing. Is your memory alright, Thanya?"
Those words sent a shiver down my entire body. Just then, my father entered the room, his expression grim. He pulled me aside and told me the truth I had suspected all along: my brother had selective amnesia, and he had forgotten Thyme. He then gave me a final, terrifying warning. "If you ever breathe a word about Thyme to your brother, I will disown you."
The threat was absolute. I had no choice but to obey them, to become a co-conspirator in a lie that would change my brother's life forever. I had to bury the truth, and with it, the memory of a boy who was everything to my brother.