Rain fell softly that morning, turning the streets silver and still. The sound of droplets tapping against her window was the only thing that woke Suzanne up.
She blinked at the clock — 8:15. School had already started.
Her head felt heavy, her vision dim at the edges.
"Mom," she murmured weakly.
Her mother hurried in, concern etched across her face. "It's okay, sweetheart. Rest today. I'll tell the school you're unwell."
Suzanne nodded faintly. Her father brought her a cup of warm tea, setting it gently by her bedside. "It's just one day off," he said, trying to sound casual, though his voice trembled slightly.
"One day," Suzanne whispered back. "Just one."
But one day turned into three.
---
By Thursday, her phone was filled with messages from friends.
> Lena: Are you alive or abducted by aliens? 😅
Ryan: You missed two quizzes and my jokes. Both are unforgivable.
Ryan: Seriously, Su. Are you okay?
Suzanne smiled at the messages but didn't reply right away. She couldn't tell them she was in and out of hospitals, that her body ached from the treatments, that sometimes even breathing felt like effort.
Instead, she texted:
> Suzanne: Just caught the flu. Nothing dramatic. Be back soon!
Ryan replied instantly:
> Ryan: Okay. But if it's the "flu," I'm coming over with soup and sarcasm.
She chuckled softly. "No, you're not," she whispered.
---
The next afternoon, her mother had stepped out for groceries and her father was at work. The house was quiet — too quiet. Suzanne sat by the window sketching the rain outside when the doorbell rang.
Ding-dong.
She froze.
Then came the voice she both loved and feared to hear right now:
"Su? It's me, Ryan!"
Her heart skipped a beat. "Oh no."
She hurried to the mirror — pale face, scarf slightly askew, tired eyes. She quickly pinched her cheeks for color and wrapped her scarf tighter.
When she opened the door, Ryan stood there holding a thermos and a small paper bag. "Operation Soup Delivery," he announced proudly. "Patient: Suzanne Davis."
Suzanne laughed nervously. "Ryan! You didn't have to come all the way—"
"I did," he interrupted, stepping inside. "You've been ghosting us for days."
She rolled her eyes. "You sound like my mom."
Ryan grinned, placing the thermos on the table. "Maybe she trained me. So, what's this deadly flu like?"
"Mostly boring," she said, waving her hand. "Just fever, sleep, repeat."
He looked at her closely. "You look… thinner."
Suzanne smiled faintly. "That's just your imagination."
Ryan didn't reply. He glanced at the pile of hospital papers half-hidden beneath a book on the coffee table.
He frowned. "What's that?"
Suzanne's breath caught. "Oh, uh — Dad's work stuff! He's been doing a medical project or something."
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Since when does your dad work with hospitals?"
"Since now," she said quickly, snatching the papers and shoving them into a drawer.
He studied her for a long moment, but she smiled so easily, so naturally, that he finally let it go.
"Fine," he said, sighing. "But if you don't show up at school next week, I'm kidnapping you myself."
"Deal," she said softly.
---
After he left, Suzanne leaned against the door, closing her eyes. Her heart thudded in her chest — part fear, part relief.
> He almost found out.
Her mother's voice broke the silence as she returned home. "Was that Ryan's bike outside?"
Suzanne nodded. "He just came to check on me."
Her mother smiled gently. "He's a good boy."
Suzanne looked down. "Yeah," she whispered. "He is."
---
That night, Suzanne opened her diary again:
> "Ryan was here today. For a moment, I thought he'd see everything — the reports, the pain, the truth.
I want to tell him… but not yet. Not until I have to."
She closed the diary, whispering to the quiet room,
"Please, let me have a few more normal days."
And far away, Ryan lay in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying every word, every look from today — and the uneasy feeling in his chest wouldn't fade.
---