Page 17 of My Ruthless Opponent

Instead of twisting the doorknob, I peep through the square glass panel of the door.

My lips tremble at his sight.

Sitting near the window lifelessly in a wheelchair is my dad.

He seems to be aged a lot since my last visit. Which was only two weeks ago.

He’s in a blue sweater and black slacks. His white hair is in order. I internally thank the staff for taking such good care of him.

My palm goes up and lands on the door. My lips part. “Dad.”

He can’t hear me. Not because I am standing on the other side of the door. No.

Even if I were to stand in front of him, he would never respond.

As I stand here, I will him to do something. To move. To show any signs of improvement.

My vision blurs when he continues to sit still. I cover my mouth to smother the sob. To stifle the need to cry harder.

I stare at my reflection on the glass panel and see her. The seven-year-old girl with pigtails. Gunmetal eyes like mine.

The girl has a hand clamped on her mouth while tears are streaming down her cheeks and soaking her hand. The hand that’s shivering with how hard it’s gripping the lower half of her face.

Unable to look in the eye of my past, I turn and lean my back against the wall beside the door.

I wipe at the onslaught of tears and take a few deep breaths.

After composing myself, I push off the wall and straighten to my full height.

I can’t go inside today. If it weren’t for the meeting, I would’ve spent some time with him.

He never talks to me but it doesn’t stop me from sharing everything with him.

So what if he is not talking to me right now? I am not the one to give up when it comes to a challenge. Iwillmake him respond to my rants one day.

“Hannah?” Martha walks toward me.

Martha is a nurse who works here. She is in her late forties with a kind smile. She is also the only one who I have talked to the most in this home care.

“It’s good to see you here.” She smiles. And my throat starts closing. She squeezes my shoulder. “Come more often.”

I can only manage to nod.

I have been occupied with work and only visit Dad every other week.

I’d have spent more time today but I have to attend the meeting. After all, I am doing all this for him.

My job is the reason I was able to place him in one of the best home care with the best doctors and staff.

I don’t know why the meeting has been rescheduled. It is unlike Archer to change something last minute. If he did this, he might have a solid reason for it. And I trust him. He is the one person I can trust with my life.

My boss and my dearest friend, Archer is the only one who knows about Dad’s situation.

If I text him about delaying the meeting because I am in the hospital, he would do it in a heartbeat.

But that would be wrong. It would be like I am taking advantage of our friendship.

He has already done so much for me. I just hope I get to make time later this week to come here.

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