“The unhappiest people in this world, are those who care the most about what other people think.”

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I hear the sound of my nail scraping against the glass mug as I look down at my cappuccino exhaustedly.

My eyes look up towards my mother who stabs a fork into her fat-free muffin. She was possibly the only woman I knew who would eat a muffin with a fork.

"Oh, spit it out, Demiah, you've been staring at me for the past 20 minutes ready to explode. What's on your mind?" My mother— Demi Sallow— asks me impatiently.

I release a long sigh before replying, brushing my blonde hair from my face, "I'm going to the doctor later today." I look to my mother for her reaction.

My mother lets go of her fork and tilts her head to the side. No one could ever be able to tell that my mother bore any sickness. Belonging to the middle-class society, she always carried herself with dignity and pride, which— most of the time—wasn't a good thing since she looked down on those below her.

As a little girl, I thought that my mother was never afraid of anything. And as I grew older, I knew it wasn't just a thought that the younger me conjured up in her head.

My mother was fearless.

That is— until she was diagnosed with the life-threatening disease of breast cancer. My mother, as much as she'll never admit it, was terrified of dying.

After all, she was a woman who believed that for a woman to even be considered so, her womb must be fertile, and she should have both of her breasts to feed that of her child.

Despite already giving birth to me, and being diagnosed when I was well into womanhood, she still believed that this concept applied to her.

Not only was she afraid to die, but she was afraid to die less than a woman. I tried to convince her and comfort her that this was not true, but she would have none of it.

She couldn't even say the phrase. She couldn't admit to herself that she had breast cancer, even after having lost one of her breasts in the process. I understand that she's scared, and I hate to admit that I could have never sympathized with the woman that I believe was fearless until I've come to the shocking revelation that I too, may have breast cancer.

"The doctor? For Pete's Sake, what now?" She sighs.

I swallow, knowing that she wouldn't be pleased with where this conversation was going.

"I've been feeling some... lumps in my breast and I just want to—" She stops me with a raise of her hand.

"You think what I have is contagious? Stop being so paranoid and wasting your husband's money on foolishness." Her voice holds finality, leaving no room for me to speak anymore on the topic.

I drop the subject, instead straightening my back and clearing my throat. It was quiet between us for a while as I watched my mother eat, me taking occasional sips of my cappuccino.

I place the mug back onto its plate, rubbing my palms together, "I'm not happy, mama." I said softly. My voice cracked, much to my dismay. I hated to show my vulnerability, especially to my mother.

"With what? Why?" She questions as her lips turn downward.

"With my life, in this marriage, with everything. I can't keep faking this anymore," I pause as she looks around frantically, lowering her head and leaning closer.

"Lower your voice before someone hears you," She clears her throat sharply. "You've been doing it for over 10 years, you can do it for a bit longer."

My eyebrows scrunch, "And just how long is a bit longer? The rest of my life? He— He grabs me, berates me, and he can't even stand to look at me. How am I suppose to deal with that?" I try not to make a big deal out of the situation but it was the only way to get through to my mother.

Her eyes flare in an ugly manner. I got my blonde hair from my mother and that was about it. I considered my mother a beautiful woman, but when she was angry, her features twisted in a manner that I didn't think was possible.

She leans closely and knocks the fork against the table, emitting a clattering sound to get her point across, "You think you can just leave him? You have nothing, Demiah. The clothes on your back, the shoes on your feet, the food in your stomach all came from his money; marrying him is the only way to repay him," She sneers. "And what about my treatment? You know your father and I can't afford it on our own. You're being selfish and only thinking about yourself. Think about other people for once!"

She places an old hand on her chest to regain her breath, subtlety looking around at the few eyes that quickly glanced at us due to her raised voice.

I form my lips in a tight line to either stop myself from yelling or sobbing. I wasn't sure which one. I couldn't believe that my mother had even suggested that I was selfish when the only reason that I was with Titus was so that she could get the treatment that she deserved.

I retrieve my purse from the table, sliding out and adjusting the dress on my body. I dig through the contents of my purse, seeing from my peripheral as my mother looks at me incredulously.

I throw a twenty-dollar bill on the table,  paying for both of us as I raise my chin, "Now both the foods in our stomach come from him. Go and marry him as payment," I snarl.

With that, I turn on my heel— literal heel— and walk out of the establishment.

'~~~~|~~~~'

I wished that Jennifer could have been here with me today. Today could be life-altering for me— no matter what the results were.

I wore a sundress today, which didn't require me to wear a bra. I knew that whatever doctor I had today would have to grope my breasts, and I didn't need to wear a fancy lace bra or any bra at all for the occasion.

I looked around the hospital room that I was in. I was certain that Jenny had made the call to the president of the hospital judging by how nicely they treated me. It was either that or this was the best hospital ever with the sweetest staff I'd ever met.

My thoughts were confirmed when a nurse showed me to the room that I'd be examined in, telling me politely that they had been expecting me.

The hospital, in general, was large and I'd heard great reviews about it since Jenny told me about it. I haven't been checked up officially in quite a while, not since I was married to be exact.

Titus was always keen about me using his specific doctor; the family doctor.

He wasn't even aware that I was here today and if he was, I'm sure he'd cause a fit. That's why the plan was to tell him after my appointment.

My phone rang.

I cursed silently when I saw his name on my screen.

"Hello?" I murmured unhappily.

I heard his breathing.

"Why is Killian telling me that you're at the hospital?" Killian was the driver he assigned to me. His voice held fury. I don't understand why this was such a big issue.

"Because I need to be. It may be something serious and you know that Dr. Walker is on vacation. It could be serious," I repeated.

He huffs into the phone so loudly that I have to pull it away from my ear, "He'll be back in two weeks, wait until then, I'm telling Killian to bring you back here."

"I can't 'wait until then'. Didn't you hear me say that this could be serious?" My voice had risen and I didn't care.

He could yell and stomp his feet all he'd like and act like a toddler but I wasn't going to play with my health.

He was silent in my ear before I hear his low, gruff voice, "You better be home before three and don't defy my orders again," He seethes.

I actually feel myself sigh in relief when he ends the call in my ear.

And that, was one of the rare times that I stood up for myself.

I rub my forearm in discomfort.

Luckily, my nurse enters the room with a polite smile on her face, "Hello, my name is Genevieve and I'll be your nurse today."

I nod my head in greeting, sending a smile her way as she walks over and pulls open the blinds.

She comes back to stand in front of me, a strand of her short auburn hair blowing into her face. With blue eyes looking at me softly, she speaks, "A doctor should be here in a minute to examine you so just get comfortable."

I smile, "Yes, thank you," With that, the older lady leaves the room.

I sigh impatiently. I had nothing to do after this visit, and it was always better than going back to the mansion, but hospitals made me uncomfortable, especially since every time I came to one, it didn't come with great news.

Not to mention the number of appointments I always went to with my mother. It was never a pleasant experience, my mother made sure of that.

There was a short knock on the door and without waiting for me to answer, a man entered the room in a white lab coat and a stethoscope around his neck.

With a brown clipboard in his hands, he finally looks up and me, and like the nurse, he smiles politely.

"Good evening, I am Doctor Yoshida Saiji," He pauses and his smile falters. "I mean— Saiji Yoshida," He corrects as he looks down at the clipboard in embarrassment.

I tilt my head to the side and straighten my back in amusement. I take in his pale skin, and small, slanted eyes. This, along with his long, silky hair pulled back to the back of his head and the way he had first pronounced his name, it was clear to me that he was possibly Japanese.

He finally looks up again to see my white teeth showing to him, causing him to relax again. Looking to be around the age of twenty-five, he stands firmly in front of me, "So... Mrs. Sievers, could you tell me what the problem is?"

As always, I cringe at the title but continue regardless, "Well, I've been—"

We're interrupted when there's a knock on the door again and Dr. Saiji looks behind him before going to the door.

"Excuse me" He murmurs. He cracks the door just a bit and takes a small peak before swiftly opening it a bit wider, "Dr. Romano—" He allows the gentleman to enter freely.

Tall, broad shoulders, muscles prominently showing through his coat, pulsing veins visible through his hands, and black, curly hair flowing from the scalp of his head.

With a stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck, and a black, ballpoint pen tucked into the front of his coat, he looks up to finally meet my gaze.

It was the structured and angular cheekbones, the sharp and lightly stubbled jaw, the piercing brown eyes, the all familiar full, pink lips, and of course, the flop of hair that dropped and shielded over his left eye completely.

This was not the tall, slender boy that I knew, but it was, in fact—

Enrique Romano.

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Word Count: 1966