Chapter 4

The moment the door closed behind her, Arsy's world shifted. The noise from outside vanished, replaced by the monotone pulse of medical equipment.

"Beep... beep... beep..."

The sound was alien, sterile, and terrifying. Her gaze locked onto the single figure in the center of the room.

Her father.

Rahman lay motionless on the ER bed. His body looked thinner than she remembered. His face was drained of color, nearly gray. An oxygen tube ran beneath his nose, rising and falling with breaths that came heavy and irregular. Electrode patches clung to his chest, trailing wires to the cardiac monitor. An IV line fed into one hand. Cables and tubing stretched in every direction, making her father look as though he were bound by machines.

Arsy's hand flew to her mouth.

"Dad..." The word was barely a sound.

Her eyes burned. Tears pooled instantly, but she forced herself not to cry out loud. Her chest heaved. Her breath shuddered. She stood rooted near the door as if her legs had lost the strength to carry her a single step farther.

This was her father.

The father who had always seemed invincible. Who never complained. Who had stood at the front line every time life turned difficult. And now that man lay helpless, dependent on machines just to breathe. Arsy moved toward the bed. Each step felt like walking over broken glass. Her heart ached. Her head swam with guilt that pressed down without mercy.

She stood at his bedside. Studied his face up close. The lines of exhaustion were unmistakable. His lips were dry. His forehead — the same forehead that had always felt warm beneath her palm — was pale and cold. His chest rose and fell in slow, labored movements, as though every breath demanded enormous effort. Arsy covered her mouth again, this time with both hands. Her shoulders began to shake. Tears fell at last, dropping one by one onto the white hospital floor.

"Dad..." Her voice cracked. Faint. Almost inaudible.

She tried to hold on. Tried to stay standing. But the longer she looked at him, the faster her resolve crumbled. Her legs shook badly. Her knees went weak. Her vision blurred behind tears.

And finally, Arsy couldn't hold herself up anymore. She sank to her knees beside the bed. The soft thud of her knees against the floor was quiet, but it echoed through her chest like a blow. The tears she'd been fighting erupted all at once. Sobs tore from deep inside her, impossible to contain.

She reached out slowly, hesitantly — as though afraid to touch him. But in the end, she took one of her father's limp hands from where it rested on the bed. It was cold. Far colder than she remembered. She clasped it in both of hers. Her fingers trembled. She bent down and pressed her lips to the back of his hand, her body racked with sobs.

"Dad..." She kissed his hand again. "Forgive me..."

Her crying grew louder. She bowed her head until her forehead nearly touched his fingers.

"I'm sorry, Dad..." Her voice shook violently. "I haven't been a good daughter. All I've ever done is make you sad and disappointed."

Tears fell onto his hand. Arsy hurried to wipe them away, as if afraid even her tears might hurt him.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I can't bear seeing you like this," she continued, the words splintering between sobs. "I can't stand it."

Memories assaulted her without mercy. Her father's face, twisted with anger and heartbreak when the truth about Radit came out. The moment he clutched his chest before he collapsed. It all spiraled through her mind, and the guilt crushed down harder.

"If I'd been more aware — if I'd seen through Radit's lies sooner — you'd never be in this condition." She choked on a sob. "This is my fault, Dad..."

She shook her head slowly, as if refusing the reality, but the tears kept flowing.

"You always told me to be strong. To be patient. To never give up..." A bitter, broken smile flickered across her face. "But I'm not strong right now, Dad... I'm scared..."

Her grip tightened on his hand, as if it might vanish the moment she let go.

"Don't leave me, Dad..." she pleaded, her voice threadbare. "You're all I have. I'm not ready to be alone..."

Her sobs gradually softened into quieter, more piercing whimpers. She wiped her face and tried to draw a deep breath, though her chest still felt crushed. Slowly, she raised her head. Her swollen eyes found her father's face again.

"Dad..." Her voice was smaller now, resigned. "If I've ever done wrong — if I've ever caused you pain — please forgive me." She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb, the motion slow and tender. "I haven't become a daughter you can be proud of yet... I haven't repaid everything you've sacrificed, haven't given you any peace of mind."

Tears fell again, but this time she didn't bother wiping them.

"If God grants you more time," she whispered, "I promise I'll change... I promise I'll be better — more obedient, someone who makes you happy." She paused. Her chest heaved. Then she bowed her head again, still clutching his hand.

"Dear God... please grant my father healing." Her tears returned, laced now with surrender. "If there is still time left for him... if there is still a chance for me to honor him, please extend his life." She wiped her face with the back of her hand, then bent low once more. "I accept Your will, God. I surrender. Whatever You decide — just grant me the strength to bear it."

She pressed her forehead to the edge of the bed, eyes closed. Her hand still gripped her father's, as though her prayers could flow through the touch. Inside the ER, time seemed to slow to a crawl. There was only the beeping of the monitors, Arsy's quiet weeping, and prayers offered from a shattered heart. She didn't know how this would end. She didn't know whether tomorrow she would still hear her father's voice calling her name. But one thing she knew: in that moment, she had placed everything in God's hands.

With love, with regret, and with whatever hope remained.

The ER corridor fell silent after Arsy's prayers faded. Inside the room, a daughter still knelt at her father's bedside, holding a hand that was no longer as warm as she remembered. She had no way of knowing that at that very moment, thousands of miles from where she knelt, fate was already moving closer.

The night sky above the clouds was a deep, dark blue. A private jet cut through the air — graceful, steady, and nearly silent. Inside its spacious, luxurious executive cabin, the atmosphere was calm. Soft, dimmed lighting cast a warm glow. The faint scent of the cabin blended with the trace of an expensive masculine cologne.

***This work has been signed with NovelToon, and piracy such as reprinting without permission is strictly prohibited.***

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***