YOU'RE REALLY STUPID
1063 Words
A bird flapped its wings away from the window, leaving the ward in silence. Hazel slowly opened her eyes, the sharp scent of disinfectant piercing her nose. She didn’t frown at it anymore—just felt disappointment. Once again, she had lost control of her emotions and ended up here. Again.
She tried to lift her hand, only to wince at the sting of the IV needle. Same scene, same pain, only a different day and a different reason. The hospital had become far too familiar.
“Are you really not tired of coming here?”
The husky but gentle voice reached her ears before the man revealed himself. Turning her head with effort, Hazel saw him: tall, blond, with violet eyes that mirrored her own. He resembled her slightly—except her hair was a soft brandy brown, while his gleamed like pale gold.
“Yohan… it’s you,” Hazel murmured, her throat dry, her voice fragile.
He sighed, filled a glass with water, and guided it to her lips, steadying her as she sat up.
“Seriously, Hazel. If you keep this up, next time I might be welcoming your corpse.”
His blunt words hit hard, but not without truth. She had been in and out of the hospital so often it was a miracle she could still breathe, still wake, still feel the wind on her skin.
“I don’t want to come here either,” she whispered. “But it isn’t always my choice. I can ignore the pain in my body, but this heart… I can’t control it.”
“If you really could control it, you wouldn’t still be with Ethan,” Yohan shot back, his tone heavy with suppressed anger.
Hazel lowered her eyes. If only she could control her heart, perhaps she could erase Ethan from it. But the thought alone tore her apart. Forgetting him felt more painful than enduring him.
“Hazel, he doesn’t love you.”
“But I love him.” The words slipped out, heavy and raw.
Yohan’s eyes flared with rage. “What kind of love makes you throw away your life for someone who doesn’t care if you live or die? You already have a congenital heart disease, and yet you still risked your life for him. You made it worse! And for what? Ivy took the credit, and you got his hatred.”
The memory came rushing back—seven years ago, the car accident. Ethan, Emily, Ivy, herself, the driver. The fire. The smoke. Hazel’s weak body dragging them out one by one while her chest screamed in pain. The crushing weight of the car nearly broke her ribs as she pulled Ethan free. Still, she carried him until her body gave way. She had walked miles for help before collapsing unconscious. When she woke from a week-long coma, she was told Ivy had been the hero. And Hazel? A coward who had run for her life.
Perhaps it was then Ethan’s disgust toward her truly began. From that day, he adored Ivy—and Hazel never corrected the lie.
“Yohan,” she whispered, “it wasn’t his fault. It never was. I let Ivy take the credit, every time. I was careless.”
Her chest tightened at the memory of Ethan’s love confession to Ivy. Their marriage had been arranged, but she could have refused. Instead, she clung to the foolish belief that time and patience would make Ethan see her, the real Hazel, not Ivy’s shadow. But four years later, life only worsened, especially with Ivy and Emily poisoning his heart against her.
“Here, eat some porridge. You must not have eaten since yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” Hazel blinked, startled.
“Yes. You’ve been unconscious for more than twenty-four hours.”
A whole day. Yet not a single person had noticed her absence. Not Ethan. Not Emily. Not even Ivy—except, perhaps, to celebrate. It wasn’t the first time she had vanished into the hospital without anyone caring enough to ask where she’d gone.
“I already know,” Hazel cut him off gently before he could continue. “No one called to ask about me.” She forced a spoonful of porridge into her mouth and stared at it blankly. “I just… hoped he might notice. Even the smallest bit.”
Yohan clenched his jaw. “Stop defending that scumbag. His blindness is his fault, not yours. Don’t get so worked up, Hazel—you’ll end up back in the ICU.”
“Sure,” she said, a radiant smile stretching across her pale face. But it was a smile forged by willpower, not joy.
Yohan studied her thin frame, his heart twisting. She was beautiful, even in her fragility, but she had withered so much she seemed breakable. He had promised her mother to protect her. Yet here she was, falling apart before his eyes, and all he could do was patch her wounds.
He took the spoon from her trembling hand and fed her gently.
“Hazel, come back with me,” he said at last.
Her lips parted. “Yohan…”
“I know you’ll insist on staying at the Jacksons’, but I’m worried about you.”
Warmth spread in her chest at his care. Aside from Yohan, her father, and her mother-in-law, who had once been her mother’s close friend, no one seemed to care. And yet, even with that love, she felt lost. Torn between survival and her stubborn, destructive devotion.
Yohan brushed a hand over her head, as if reading her storm of thoughts. “That’s enough. Don’t think too much, Hazel. Just… remember this: I’ll always be here. My door will always be open for you.”
“Definitely,” Hazel replied with a smile, fragile but sincere.
Yohan stayed with her until she had eaten all she could, then rose to leave. “Rest well. I’ll check on you later.”
He waved goodbye and stepped out. But he didn’t know—when he returned, he wouldn’t find his cousin in that hospital bed again. Her body was stable, but her heart… her heart was another story.
Hazel leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Tears burned her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall.
“Hazel,” she whispered to herself. “You really are stupid.”
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- Writer
