Chapter 4: Never Letting Go

Three years ago, Eliana’s world began to shift in ways she couldn’t understand. It started subtly at first – her father coming home from work looking unusually pale, wiping sweat off his brow with trembling hands. Then came the fever. The kind that burned through him like wildfire, leaving him weak and delirious in bed for days. Every time it struck, he would end up in the hospital, hooked up to IV drips and monitors that beeped through the night. But what gnawed at Eliana’s soul the most wasn’t the fever itself – it was the secrets. Her adopted grandfather, whom she loved calling "Papa H" since she was little, always took charge whenever her father fell ill. He would stride into the house with his quiet authority, instructing doctors and nurses, slipping into her father’s hospital room with an expression carved from stone. Whenever Eliana begged her father to tell her what was wrong with him, he would just ruffle her hair with a sad smile and say, "Don’t worry, angel. It’s just a fever. I’ll be fine." And when she turned to Papa H, tears brimming in her eyes, pleading for answers, he would only pat her cheek gently. "It’s nothing serious, my child. Go home and rest." But Eliana wasn’t stupid. She could see the truth in the silent glances they exchanged behind her back, the way her father winced when he thought she wasn’t looking. They were hiding something from her – something big. Then came the day that broke her heart in a way she never thought possible. She was studying late at the College library when her phone buzzed with an incoming call from one of the maids at home. "Miss Eliana," the woman whispered, voice shaking, "your father... he collapsed. They’re taking him to the hospital right now." Her books slipped from her hands and scattered across the floor. Her vision blurred with tears as fear tore through her chest. Even though this wasn’t the first time, it felt different. More terrifying. She was trembling so badly that her first instinct was to call Jason. She needed him more than she needed air right now. She needed his strong arms around her, grounding her when her knees threatened to buckle. She needed his fingers in her hair, his deep voice whispering in her ear that everything would be alright, even if it was a lie. "Jason," she choked out when he finally answered her call, her sobs shaking her chest. "It’s my dad... they rushed him to the hospital again. Please... can you come with me? I can’t go alone." There was a pause, long enough to crack her already breaking heart. Then he sighed. "Yeah... I’ll come. Give me a few minutes." But he didn’t come. Minutes slipped away, each one dragging her deeper into despair until an entire hour had crawled by. She sat alone on the hostel steps, her shoulders shaking, her tears dripping onto the cracked concrete beneath her feet. Her phone was clenched so tightly in her trembling hands that her knuckles turned white. Still, no Jason. Eventually, with her cheeks raw from crying, she forced herself to stand up and go alone. Sarai wasn’t around – she’d travelled out of town for a family emergency – so there was no one else to call. The hospital air was harsh and cold, heavy with antiseptic and fear. Her father lay hooked up to machines again, tubes snaking around his fragile body, his chest rising and falling so softly it terrified her. Papa H was there too, quietly speaking with the doctors, but no one told her anything. They only fed her the same tired lie: "It’s just a fever." When her father finally stabilised, Eliana slipped out of his room, her legs numb with exhaustion and relief. She found a metal bench near the entrance and sat there, staring out into the darkness, waiting for Jason to arrive and hold her like she needed. Hours passed, and then, close to midnight, her phone buzzed. Jason: Sorry babe. I’m too tired. Had a class meeting. Going home to sleep. Love you. The disappointment was sharp and brutal, slicing through her chest like glass. Tears pooled in her eyes, but she didn’t lash out. She had never been that girl. Instead, she typed back with trembling fingers: Eliana:Okay. Please rest well. Don’t skip dinner. The next day, he turned up at her hostel, grinning with that boyish smile that always melted her. He carried a bouquet of half-wilted roses and caramel chocolates. Without a word, he tickled her until she laughed through her tears, then kissed them away with soft, apologetic lips. And just like that, she forgave him. Of course she did. But things only grew worse. For their seventh-year anniversary, Eliana wanted to create something unforgettable. She sent the cook away from the hostel kitchen and spent the entire afternoon preparing creamy chicken pasta with garlic bread and the wobbly chocolate mousse Jason always teased her about. She set the table with flickering candles, her heart racing with excitement. He arrived three hours late, reeking of alcohol, his eyes glazed. He barely glanced at the food before pulling her into bed, his drunken apologies muffled against her neck. In the morning, she woke up alone, the sheets cold beside her. But there, on her pillow, was a crumpled piece of paper with a childish doodle – stick figure Jason on his knees, apologising to stick figure Eliana with a sad face. She clutched it to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks, convinced it meant he truly loved her. But love, she was slowly realising, shouldn’t feel like this. It shouldn’t hurt this way. Then came the night Sarai finally snapped. They were curled up together on Eliana’s bed, towels wrapped around their damp hair after a late shower, their legs tangled under the blankets. Sarai was scrolling through her phone, her jaw tight with anger. "Baby," she said suddenly, her voice trembling with barely restrained rage, "did you know Jason was with another girl last night? A brunette from Business Admin. I saw them at Wildwood. She was practically sitting on his lap." Eliana froze. Her chest clenched painfully, bile rising in her throat. "You’re lying," she whispered. "I’m not," Sarai snapped, her green eyes blazing. "He lied to you again. You said he was at the library. He wasn’t, Eliana. He’s cheating on you." Her lips trembled. "She’s probably just a friend—" "Stop!" Sarai threw her phone aside and glared at her, furious tears brimming in her eyes. "When will you stop making excuses for him? You’re so desperate to be loved that you’re blind to the fact that he doesn’t deserve you." "Sarai, don’t say that," Eliana whispered, hugging her knees tighter against her chest. Tears streamed down her face as her voice cracked. "He just needs time. He’ll change. I know he will." "Dump him," Sarai said coldly, her voice like ice. "He’s my friend, but he’s trash. You’re better than this." "No." Eliana’s voice was quiet but unbreakable, despite her tears. "No. I love him. He just... he just needs me to be patient." Sarai stood abruptly, grabbing her Chanel purse from the desk before storming towards the door. "You’re pathetic," she hissed under her breath and slammed the door behind her. Silence closed in around Eliana like a suffocating blanket. She sat there for a long time, staring at the silver bracelet Jason had given her. Its cold metal bit into her palm as sobs racked her body. But eventually, she wiped her tears away. She wasn’t going to give up on him. She still believed love meant holding on – even when it broke you. She wasn’t like her mother, who walked away when life got too hard. No. Eliana would stay. Even if it shattered her. Because to her, that was love. And she was never going to let it go.