Chapter Two: A Father's Silence
The taxi ride back to his father's neighborhood felt like an eternity. Adrian sat rigidly in the back seat, his phone clutched in his hand, his mind replaying the neighbor's message over and over again.
Collapsed.
Serious.
Two words that cracked open a future he thought was solid.
When the taxi finally pulled into the familiar street, he threw a few bills at the driver and jumped out. The small bungalow he had grown up in stood still, quiet, almost too quiet for a place that had once been full of his father's loud laughter and booming voice.
Adrian rushed through the gate. Neighbors stood clustered outside, their faces painted with sympathy. He pushed past them and into the sitting room.
His father lay on the worn-out sofa, his chest rising and falling shallowly. A thin film of sweat glistened on his forehead. Two men tried to keep him comfortable while waiting for the ambulance.
"Dad!" Adrian dropped to his knees. His father's eyes flickered open—weak, but still sharp.
"Adrian…" His voice was hoarse, like dry leaves rustling in the wind. "You came."
"Don't talk. Help is on the way."
But his father's lips curled into a faint smile. "I told you before… life does not… follow our plans." His hand trembled as he gripped Adrian's. "Don't… forget that."
Before Adrian could reply, the sound of sirens filled the night.
---
The hospital smelled of antiseptic and sorrow. Adrian paced the waiting room like a man possessed, ignoring Victor's missed calls and unread messages. He had no time for distractions. His world had narrowed to this sterile corridor, to the thin line between life and death his father was now walking.
After what felt like hours, a doctor in a white coat emerged. His expression gave the news before his mouth did.
"Your father suffered a stroke. He's alive, but his condition is delicate. The coming weeks will determine everything."
The words hit Adrian harder than any physical blow. For the first time in his adult life, he felt helpless. There was no graph, no budget, no life plan that could prepare him for this moment.
---
Later that night, sitting beside his father's hospital bed, Adrian studied the man who had raised him. The strong hands that once built furniture with precision now lay limp against the sheets. The voice that once lectured him about hard work was reduced to whispers.
Adrian remembered his father's favorite saying: "Man proposes, God disposes." He had always dismissed it as the kind of proverb old men used when they failed to plan their lives. But now, seeing the strongest man he knew brought down in an instant, Adrian wondered if he had been wrong all along.
The machines beeped steadily, reminding him that life could end without notice. He held his father's hand and whispered a promise, though he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince—his father, or himself.
"I'll fix this. I'll take care of everything."
But deep inside, a quiet fear settled: What if this was something he couldn't fix?