Chapter 4
As the car pulled into the city, my phone lit up again.
It was a message from Troy. [Where are you?]
I stared at the words for a long time before finally replying. [On my way.]
Troy: [I'm not feeling well. The doctor's checking me out.]
He was probably really uneasy.
Back when he got sick, I was always watching over him at his bedside.
I'd bring him water, give him his medicine, and stay up all night without sleeping.
He got used to me always being there.
But this time, all he could do was text me from behind a screen.
I didn't text back.
The hospital smelled strongly of disinfectant.
Troy's assistant was waiting for me at the door, looking even more anxious and pale than I expected.
He said quietly, "Mrs. Terry, the doctor has already given Mr. Terry an initial examination and recommends some further specialized tests."
I nodded. "I know."
When I pushed open the hospital room door, Troy was leaning against the headboard with an IV drip in his arm.
He looked a bit thinner, and his face was really pale.
When he saw me, he was visibly stunned for a second, then let out a sigh of relief.
"You're here," he said.
For a moment, the look in Troy's eyes was pure instinct, he was relying on me, like he couldn't help himself.
I walked over and set my bag aside.
"How do you feel?" I asked.
Troy said, frowning, "I feel weak all over. My head hurts too. The doctor thinks it could be an infection."
He said it so casually, like it was no big deal.
It was like he was just talking about a regular cold.
I tucked the blanket around him, just as gently as always.
I said softly, "Don't worry. It's going to be okay."
His gaze met mine, and suddenly he reached out, grabbing my wrist.
His voice was a little rough. "Moira, it's been tough on you lately."
I looked down at his hand wrapped around my wrist.
Those long, slender fingers had pulled me through crowds so many times before.
"We're a couple," I said.
It was only then that Troy seemed to let go of all his worries, slowly closing his eyes at last.
Not long after, the doctor came in and pulled me aside for a talk.
The hallway seemed endless.
He glanced at me, almost hesitating, before handing over the report.
"Mrs. Terry, the results are in," he said.
I took the report, my gaze zeroing in on the key line.
It read: [The patient is confirmed to be infected.]
I was so calm it actually caught me off guard.
It was almost strange, even to myself, how steady I felt.
"Does Troy know about this yet?" I asked.
The doctor replied, "Not yet. In situations like this, we usually recommend that family members be the ones to tell him."
I nodded.
"I'll be the one to tell him," I said quietly.
When I got back to the room, Troy was still asleep.
Sunlight from outside washed over his face, making him look so calm and pure.
It felt like everything was still ahead of us, as if nothing had happened yet.
I settled into the chair by his bedside, quietly watching him for a long while.
After a moment, I gently called his name, "Troy."
He opened his eyes. "Yes?"
I looked at him, my voice as gentle as always.
I said, "The doctor said you're sick with something that's not so good."
His expression stiffened.
"What is it?" Troy asked.
I paused, not answering right away.
Quietly, I slid the report over to him.
The hospital room was so quiet that I could hear every single drop from his IV, each one falling with a soft, steady rhythm.
Troy stared at the report, unable to make sense of it at first.
He frowned, as if he were trying to decipher some strange medical terms.
Then, bit by bit, his expression shifted.
"What does this mean?" Troy asked, his voice tense.
His voice was strained, barely holding it together.
I looked at him, my voice gentle and reassuring.
I read the line for him. "It means you've been infected with HIV."
He seemed frozen, like his mind couldn't register what I'd just said.
Or maybe his mind instinctively shut out the real meaning behind those words.
"Say that again?" Troy looked up at me, his eyes blank with a dazed confusion that was almost absurd. "What virus?"
I didn't repeat myself.
I just pushed the report closer to him, letting those bolded words fall right into his line of sight.
It read: [HIV confirmed.]
His breathing started coming faster.
"No way..." Troy shook his head instinctively. "Could the doctor have made a mistake? How could I end up with something like this? I've always been healthy. I get a physical every year..."
He froze, his words cut off all of a sudden.
It was as if he finally realized something.
He remembered the girl he cherished, the one he always said was clean, innocent, and different from other women.
He remembered just how much he'd indulged himself back then.
His face went from ghostly pale to completely drained of color.
He whispered her name, his voice shaking with real fear for the first time, "Samantha... Was it her?"
I just kept quiet.