THE CALL THAT CAME TOO LATE
A couple of weeks had gone by since Velaria left the hospital. Life went on for everyone else, but not for Dylan.
He had stopped visiting the hospital with his aunt. The place that once felt lively and familiar now seemed empty without the little girl who used to sit by the window with her blanket.
At home, things were even worse. Dylan barely touched his food. Plates sat in front of him, untouched, as he stared blankly at the table. His mother tried to comfort him, but it never worked. Sometimes, he would push the food away and leave the dining room without saying a word, locking himself in his room.
Some nights, he didn't sleep at all. His bedroom light would stay on long past midnight while he sat on the floor, holding the small red box Velaria had given him before she left.
Sometimes he opened it. Sometimes he just held it. And sometimes, he cried quietly.
His mother was worried. At first, she thought it was just a phase, a child feeling sad after losing a friend. But days turned into weeks, and Dylan only seemed to worsen.
One afternoon, she found him pacing his room, frustrated and restless. "Dylan," she said gently from the doorway, "what's wrong with you lately?"
He stopped pacing and looked at her with tired eyes. "Mom, can I get Velaria's number?" His voice was small, almost pleading. "I just want to talk to her."
His mother sighed. "No." The answer came quickly and firmly. Dylan's face fell. "But Mom…"
"There will be no phone calls and no more visits to the hospital," she said, her tone sharper now. "You need to focus on your studies and your life."
Dylan clenched his fists. "But she's my friend!" His voice cracked. "I promised her I would call!" His mother rubbed her temples in frustration.
"Dylan, what is going on with you?" she asked, worried. "What's the obsession with this Velaria girl?"
"No mom, i'm not!" he snapped back, tears welling in his eyes. "I just want to talk to her! I want to know if she's alright."
He walked closer, holding the red box in one hand and gripping his mom's hand with the other. "Please, Mom… can I get her family's number?"
Her expression hardened. "No." That single word hit him like a wall.
After that day, Dylan's condition worsened. He couldn't concentrate in class, and his homework piled up. His teacher began sending notes home. At night, he tossed and turned in bed, whispering Velaria's name into the darkness.
Eventually, he got sick. First came the fever, then exhaustion. His mother watched helplessly as her once energetic son turned quiet and withdrawn.
Finally, alarmed by his distress, she called her sister, Dr. Nadia. "I don't know what to do anymore," she admitted one evening. "Dylan hasn't been himself since that girl left the hospital."
Dr. Nadia paused. "You mean Velaria?" "Yes. He won't eat properly. He cries at night, and he keeps asking for her number," she said anxiously. "What should I do?"
There was silence on the other end for a moment. Then Dr. Nadia spoke gently. "He's just a child. Velaria was his friend during a very emotional time. Let him talk to her."
His mother hesitated. "But…" "Just give him the number," Dr. Nadia insisted softly. "It might help him heal." After a long pause, Dylan's mother sighed. Maybe her sister was right.
That evening, she walked into Dylan's room. He lay helplessly on the bed with the red box beside him. "Dylan." He opened his eyes and sat up slowly. "I have something for you." She handed him a small piece of paper.
For a moment, he stared at it in confusion. Then his eyes widened. "Is this…?" "Yes," she said. "Velaria's contact."
His reaction was immediate. Dylan jumped to his feet as if a spark had ignited inside him. "Really?!" His voice burst with excitement.
"Yes. But…" She didn't even finish the sentence before he ran across the room. He grabbed the phone with shaking hands and quickly dialed the number, barely able to breathe.
The phone rang. Once. Twice. Then... "Hello?" Dylan froze. "Velaria?" he called softly, his voice cracking with emotion.
There was a sudden gasp on the other end. "Dylan?!" Her voice sounded surprised and happy all at once. "You found me!"
"I did!" he said quickly. "Are you okay? Did you get home safely?" "Yes," Velaria replied, a small giggle escaping her. "I'm fine… mostly. But I missed you!"
Dylan leaned against the wall, relief flooding through him. "I missed you too." Then he added softly, "I promised I'd find you. And I did." Velaria laughed lightly.
"I wanted to see you on the last day… but I wasn't allowed to come to the hospital," Dylan explained. "I couldn't reach you." "Oh," she said quietly. "Okay… that's what happened."
The two children began talking and didn't stop. They laughed about the hospital garden. They talked about the nurses they used to tease. Hours passed without either of them noticing. For that moment, it felt like the distance between them vanished.
"Maybe I can visit you," Dylan said excitedly. "Yes!" Velaria replied quickly. "You should!" "I'll call you later, Velaria," he promised. "I'll tell you when I'm coming."
"I can't wait," she said happily. "I'll be expecting you." That evening, Dylan finally slept peacefully. For the first time in weeks, he felt hopeful.
But that happiness didn't last. Barely two weeks after the call, Velaria's world collapsed.
She sat in the car with her parents after a routine check-up at a hospital farther from home. Her small hands gripped the seat tightly as the car moved along the highway. She pressed her forehead to the window, watching the sunlight dance across the passing trees. Her mind was on Dylan and their recent conversations.
Her mother sat in front, reviewing the test results from the oncology hospital. Her father's eyes were fixed on the road, his jaw tight and hands firm on the wheel.
For a moment, the hum of the engine and the rhythm of the tires on the road felt normal.
"Mom… Dad…" Velaria tried to speak, her voice small and hesitant. "Yes, Velaria?" her mother answered, not looking up from her papers.
"I…I'm a little sleepy," Velaria said. She yawned. Her father glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "That's fine, sweetheart. Just rest."
Suddenly, there was a violent collision with an oncoming speeding vehicle. The tires screeched as the car swerved wildly. Velaria lost her balance as the impact threw her against the seats. Her parents hit their heads against the windshield. Her mother screamed.
"Mom! Dad!" Velaria shrieked, but the sound of her voice was drowned out by the chaos. They were struck by an oncoming car. As they tried to swerve, the vehicle flipped into a gutter. The world tilted sideways. Glass shattered, and metal twisted.
Pain exploded throughout Velaria's body, in her chest, head, and legs. She tried to move and reach her parents, but a strange numbness took over her limbs. The car slammed again. A deafening noise made her scream, then everything went black.
Ambulances arrived and rushed them to the hospital. Velaria and her parents lay unconscious and severely injured as they were taken in.
Months passed. Dylan tried his best to reach Velaria, but nothing worked. He called several times a day but got no response.
"Maybe something is wrong…" he whispered one night, staring at the phone. He curled into bed, clutching the red box. "She said she would send me her address." He cried himself to sleep.
Meanwhile, life in Dylan's world changed.
After a long stay in California, it was time to go home. Dylan and his parents were often on the move for business and rarely took vacations.
His father, Mr. Martinez, had returned from an overseas business trip.
The Martinez family owned one of the largest business empires in the world, Martinez Global Holdings. The company controlled industries spanning finance, education, technology, automobiles, and fashion. Dylan's grandfather laid the foundation of the empire and involved his children in various sectors.
Now, Dylan's father, Will Martinez, serves as the powerful CEO. Under his leadership, the company had grown ten times larger than before. And Dylan was his only son, the heir.
In the Martinez family, sons are trained from a young age to lead. "Without knowledge and practice, you cannot rule," his father often stated sternly. Dylan always saw his father as strict, principled, and disciplined.
His father taught him that poverty was a choice, a result of laziness. That was one of the many harsh lessons he instilled in him.
Soon, Dylan's days filled up with lessons, assignments, and business training, along with his school activities. He traveled with his father on short business trips. He studied markets, industries, and leadership strategies. His life was changing significantly. He was growing up fast.
But sometimes at night, he still held the red box and wondered why Velaria never answered his calls again. As the years passed, the memories of the hospital started to fade. Velaria's face became distant. His father's words grew louder instead: "As a leader, don't fail to meet your deadlines. Never be weak. Success demands discipline."
Far away, unknown to Dylan, his little friend was facing the toughest chapter of her life.