This isn’t a cold, isn’t a stomach bug.
It’s something worse, something that makes my head swim and my limbs heavy as lead.
I try to sit up, my muscles so weary they refuse to move. My hand fumbles, clumsy with fever and fear. Then click. That harsh, intrusive brightness floodsthe room, blinding me for a moment before my dilated pupils adjust. The sudden light makes me wince, makes my eyes water.
I’m still in my bed, sheets tangled around me. My duvet is kicked off somewhere. The air conditioning vent hisses loudly, sending shivers down my spine even as the light banishes the darkness, but the light bringsher.
Mrs Vale stands by the foot of the bed, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her face is a hard, shadowed mask in the bright light, her expression tight with impatience. She looks down her nose at me, that familiar, chilling sneer playing on her lips.
“Get up,” she snaps, her voice sharp and cutting. “Don’t you dare think you can laze in bed all day.”
I try to gasp, but my throats too tight. “I… I, I’m sick. I feel awful.”
Her sneer deepens, turning into a cruel scoff. “Oh, please. Do you think this is some kind of excuse? Do you think I’m going to believe your little drama queen act?”
She reaches out, her hand grabbing my shoulder roughly. “Get out of bed. Now.”
The touch sends a jolt of pure terror through me. I flinch away, pulling back instinctively. My body is weak, but my mind is screaming. Iamsick. What if she just leaves me here? What if it’s something serious and I need help? My stomach clenches as a fresh wave of nausea washes over me.
Before she can grab me again, another sound cuts through the tension, a sharp, indignant yell from the doorway.
“Don’t…” Antonio’s voice is a low, furious rumble.
Mrs Vale freezes for a second, her hand stilling mid-air. Her eyes dart towards the doorway where Antonio stands, a scowl darkening his features.
Antonio pushes past her, his movements urgent and protective. He’s beside me in an instant, his presence a grounding shock against the fear. He grasps my shoulder gently but firmly, his eyes wide with alarm as he scans my face.
“Are you okay?” he asks like he cares.
Mrs Vale just rolls her eyes. “She’s just being dramatic. Probably just wants to stay in bed.”
But Antonio isn’t listening. His gaze is fixed on me, concern etched into every line of his too handsome face. He reaches out and brushes a stray lock of sweaty hair from my forehead. “Grace, can you tell me how you feel? Really tell me.”
I manage to squeeze out, “I’m so dizzy. My chest hurts. It’s so so cold…”
His expression hardens further. “We need to get the doctor. Now.” he says.
It’s just a cold. Just the flu.
I repeat that over and over, and yet I don’t let her go until the doctor arrives and he’s checking her over.
His face is serious. He listens to her chest, listens to her heart and her lungs.
I stop pacing and stand over him, a silent, looming pressure.
“Well?” I demand.
The doctor straightens up, wiping a hand across his forehead. “It’s pneumonia, a severe case. Her oxygen saturation is critically low.”
A cold knot tightens in my stomach. Pneumonia. In this hermetically sealed environment? It’s almost impossible.
“Pneumonia? Don’t be absurd.” Mrs Vale says, her voice dripping with scorn. “The air filtration systems in this building are state-of-the-art. There’s no pathogen on earth that could get through them. She’s hyperventilating to cause a scene.”
The doctor turns to her, his professional pride clearly pricked. “With all due respect ma’am, the clinical signs are unmistakable. The pulmonary congestion, the fever, the respiratory distress, this is no act. The infection has advanced significantly.”
“How significantly?” I ask, my voice low.
He meets my gaze, and for the first time, I see it. A flicker. A fraction of a second where his eyes shift from professional concern to something else. Something rehearsed.
