The Apple of My Eye

Joan watched Sheryl with wary eyes. Melissa had left, and Shirley was sitting down, her face a blank mask that stared impassively outside the window. Joan kept watching her for a few more seconds before her own face was relieved of worry. Sheryl was brooding, but she was not dispirited-rather, it was the opposite. She had a determined air about her, one that Joan failed to notice from her earlier anxiousness. could almost hear her thinking, ' Joan thought inwardly. With her worries quelled, she returned to her room to leave Sheryl in the company of her own thoughts.

Taking a long, slow breath, Sheryl gathered her resolve. 'The past is in the past. It could do nothing but weigh me down. For now, I have to look ahead and focus on the future,' she said to herself.

Sleep was a fickle visitor, and Sheryl caught it in short, broken snatches in the night. Restlessness followed her throughout the day, and whatever energy she had left was drained empty with the demands of the day. Come night-time, the weight of exhaustion bore deep into her bones as she succumbed to the pull of sleep.

At the hospital, Charles felt the same weariness bear down on his shoulders. Every second was a pinprick crawling on his skin. Never had he felt defeated like this, and much less so by a woman. He had spent the whole day in Shining Company buried in documents. During lunch hour, David called him to report that Vicky's discharge had been approved by the doctor.

Charles had never liked hospitals. It was nothing but cold, unfeeling walls where the stench of antiseptic assailed one's nostrils. Had it not been for Vicky's threats, he never would have stepped inside that despised building.

"David, you go ahead and take care of the formalities for Vicky," he instructed. Without another word, he went back to his paper work.

Work did not prove to be as much of a distraction as he would have liked. Even as he focused on the letters and figures, anxiety gnawed at the back of his mind. The hours stretched into agonized waiting, and yet, the darkness fell with no news from David.

Charles could not bear it any longer. He rushed to the hospital and arrived to the sight of a very distressed David. "What is it?" he asked immediately, his voice edged with bewilderment. He had never seen David lose his composure. "Did anything happen to her? Did her illness get worse?"

He was fully aware of the fact that he could never free himself of Vicky in this lifetime. If anything happened to her, he would still be unable to go back to Sheryl.

"If only that were the case," David muttered, unable to stop himself.

"Tell me whatever is going on,"

Charles ordered as he surveyed David from head to foot. The other man's mumbling made no sense to him. 'Vicky is certainly no ordinary woman if she was able to reduce David to this state!' Charles thought to himself.

David let out a sigh before answering, "The doctor informed me that Vicky has fully recovered. She can leave the hospital at any moment. It was advised that she comes back for a follow-up in a week." "...And?" Charles knew that something else was up. If things were so simple, David should have returned to the office half a day ago.

With another sigh that almost resembled a groan, David continued flatly, "Vicky said she would rather die than get out of the hospital." David felt his temper boil to dangerous heights at the thought of the woman. His hands tightened into fists at his sides. At the moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to beat some sense into her thick, capricious skull.

Vicky had been admitted to the hospital for a few days. The doctor had guaranteed that her health had fully recovered now and that she was free to leave the hospital at any moment, but Vicky stubbornly refused-claiming that a malignant tumor was inside her body.

Charles contemplated on his words.

In theory, a doctor could not refuse a patient who insists on being ill.

"Is she psychologically normal?" he asked, thinking of possible explanations for her absurd behavior. Hadn't she forgotten everything? Vicky had repeatedly said that all she remembered was Charles being her husband. At this point, Charles was set on confirming her mental state.

Had Vicky not persisted on trying his patience, he wouldn't have treated her this distantly.

David shook his head at Charles.

"I don't know what to do with her. The doctor assured me that her brainwaves were still very irregular. According to him, it would take time for her to be back to normal," he said, his shoulders hunched in defeat From the very beginning, Charles already had his doubts about Vicky. There was something about her that made him ill at ease. And now, with all this evidence, his distrust of her grew deeper.

"I see," he said and nodded to David. "Go and wait for me downstairs. I'll handle the rest myself." He gave David a quick tap on his shoulder then made his way to Vicky's ward. Closing the door behind him, he looked her straight in the eye. "What do you want from me?" he asked.

Vicky's eyes turned red at his forceful tone. "Charles, do you really think nothing of me? It's just been a few days since I've been here. Have you already started being fed up?" she sobbed. "The doctor said you have made a fully recovered, so why do you insist on staying here?" Charles growled as he averted his eyes from her.

The sight of her filled his gut with anger.

Vicky only pleaded more desperately. "Charles, I'm telling you this for your own good. I am still ill. If I go back home with you right now, I would only cause you more trouble than I already have," she explained. With her tear-filled eyes and trembling voice, she could almost be mistaken as the protagonist in a drama.

Charles still refused to look in her direction. "Fine," he snapped. "I've had it with you. Stay in your ward if that's what you want, but you have to know that I'm busy. I won't have time to come and see you here." Despite his irritation, Charles held back, choosing to respond with indifference instead of anger. At the moment, he was already unsure about her psychological state. If he was careless, he could deal her more damage.

Truth be told, he cared nothing for the woman in front of him. He wanted nothing to do with the trouble she brought.

"I know," she answered in a broken voice. "I know you're busy, but can't you at least try to find time every day to visit me?" Vicky's voice had taken on a tender note as she turned to Charles, her face expectant as she waited for him to answer.

She seemed to be a poor woman who was not aware of Charles' indifference.

"Don't push me, Vicky! There are over 1,000 employees working in the Shining Company, and yet you make this demand? What? Are you saying that your wishes are more important than those people whose lives depend on the company?" Charles asked, his voice thick with challenge.

"I am your wife! Shouldn't I be just as important to you as your company?" Vicky cried out. Her words were like kindling to the flame of his anger as he finally looked at her.

Wife?

There was no other woman in the world who deserved that name. Only Sheryl. The ache in Charles' chest was only magnified by the absence of the woman for whom the word was reserved.

"Is that so? Then, how come it seems that you're going to do something special if I don't come to see you today?" Charles taunted, taking an almost cruel satisfaction at the wide-eyed disbelief on Vicky's face. For a moment, she was unable to speak. He looked at her as if she was vermin. She almost couldn't believe that the man in front of her was real. 'Can a man be this heartless? Why had he pushed me away this early, and at such a time and place?' Vicky thought to herself.

Charles didn't miss a beat as Vicky's face reflected shock and dissatisfaction.

"Why, why do you treat me like this? What have I ever done to you?" Vicky yelled hysterically.

"I've had enough from you. If you want to rid yourself of me, then go ahead and leave now!"

One moment, she was as docile and meek as a lamb, then she becomes a snake in the next, ready to strike with venom. Vicky returned Charles' anger with her own. Indeed, appearances were deceitful. Just earlier, she had been pleading, but now, she was serving him her own fury without hesitation.

Charles remained unfazed at her words. He knew exactly the sort of women that Vicky belonged to. She would stop at nothing to have what she desired. He would not simply stand by with folded arms and let her have her way.

"What are you waiting for?" Vicky kept on screaming. "Go! My life or death has nothing to do with you. I don't want to see you ever again!" She was clutching at her sheets and pounding them as she shouted. Charles simply stood and watched, his face unmoving as a stone.

If he were a stranger, he wouldn't even be here in the first place. But Charles was no stranger-he couldn't be even if he wanted to. His life and safety were closely tied to Vicky's own.

He listened to her, trying to decipher what lay under Vicky's cryptic screams. His head snapped up as a dangerous realization hit him. This woman was threatening to kill herself!

"What happened?" a nurse asked aloud suddenly. All the yelling inside the ward had alarmed her, and she rushed to the door, pushing it open.

She saw Charles standing beside the sickbed. Vicky's eyes were red, and her hands were wound tightly around the disarrayed sheets. "What is with all this screaming? This is a hospital. Please be considerate of other patients," the nurse said sternly. Then, turning to Charles, she said, "Sir, the visiting hours are over. You may leave now."