I ran.

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me.

I started running the moment I entered the hospital.

I didn’t think that I was capable of running that fast,ever. It was just that my mind was running so wild, so full of thoughts, that I was unable to think of anything. Not of the stares from the people in the lift, not of the number of patients on wheelchairs I almost knocked over.

When I finally reached the third floor, I turned left at the first corner, vaguely remembering the ward number shown in the text message. I reached. Ward 32A. I slowed down my footsteps a few metres away from the door, catching my breath for the first time. I kept telling myself, he would be okay, he would be fine. He was always strong.

Slowly and steadily, I pushed the door.

I recognised him immediately as the patient at the bed closest to the window. From his hair, from the way he smiled and the sound of his laughter when chatting with his friends. He looked fine, but there was something tugging inside my chest as I walked nearer. I reached the edge of his bed, resisting the urge to hug him as feelings of joy and relief came over me.

There were stares. His expression changed. He stopped smiling.

“Who are you?”

His face was blank as he stared, void of recognition.

The loving look he used to have, was gone.

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