C24 Rotten Bean

Sierra had read the same line three times without understanding a word of it.

She stared at the file in her hands, trying to concentrate on the information in front of her, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the hospital corridor.

Alex.

She could still picture him on the stretcher, surrounded by medical staff as they rushed him towards the emergency department. His body had been convulsing, and his face had looked so unfamiliar that, for a moment, she had struggled to reconcile what she was seeing with the man she remembered.

Then there was Joan.

Sierra had seen Joan's fear. She had watched her rush alongside the stretcher, calling Alex's name, her composure slipping as they approached the emergency department doors.

Joan was Sam's closest friend. Sierra had seen her around, heard about her from Sam, and knew how much they meant to each other. Yet until that afternoon, she hadn't known that Joan was Alex's sister.

The connection had been surprising enough.

What had happened to Alex was something else entirely.

"Sierra?"

She looked up.

A colleague stood beside her desk, holding a folder.

"Are you done with this?"

Sierra glanced down at the file in her hands. "Sorry. Not yet."

"Are you all right? You've been staring at that page for a while."

"I'm fine." She closed the folder. "Just a little tired."

Her colleague studied her for another second before nodding. "All right. Let me know when you're finished."

Sierra watched her walk away, then released a quiet breath.

She hated how distracted she was. There were patients to attend to, documents to review, and work that still needed to be done. She couldn't afford to spend the entire afternoon lost in her thoughts.

So she tried again.

She opened the folder and forced herself to read the first paragraph.

A few minutes later, she realised she hadn't absorbed any of it.

She set it aside.

The image of Alex on that stretcher kept returning, followed by the memory of Joan's frightened expression. Sierra had never seen her like that before. She had always thought of Joan as composed and capable, someone who could handle herself.

But that afternoon, Joan had looked terrified.

And if Joan, who knew Alex better than almost anyone, had been that frightened, what did that say about what had happened?

Sierra pressed her fingers against her forehead.

She needed answers.

But she didn't even know where to begin.

---

The rest of her shift passed slowly.

Sierra carried out her duties, answered questions, and spoke to colleagues when necessary. From the outside, she probably looked perfectly normal. No one could see the effort it took to keep her attention on the work in front of her.

By the time she was ready to leave, she felt exhausted.

She was gathering her things when she remembered the doctor she'd spoken to earlier.

He was the doctor responsible for Alex's treatment and medication. Their conversation had taken place after the immediate rush of the emergency, when Sierra had finally managed to approach him and explain that she knew Alex personally.

She hadn't planned to ask so many questions.

At first, she'd only wanted to know what had happened to him. But the doctor's explanation had left her with more to think about than she'd expected.

Epilepsy.

That was what Alex had been living with.

Sierra knew the word, of course. She understood that epilepsy could cause seizures, but she hadn't known Alex had the condition, much less that he'd been receiving treatment for it.

The doctor had explained that Alex's medication was intended to help control his seizures, though it couldn't guarantee that another episode would never happen.

What she'd witnessed that afternoon had been more severe than his usual episodes.

The doctor had also explained that prolonged seizures could be dangerous and required urgent medical attention. Alex had been taken in for treatment, and the medical team was attending to him.

It was all the doctor could reasonably tell her.

Sierra had thanked him, though she'd left the conversation feeling as if she'd forgotten every other question she'd wanted to ask.

She had walked away with one word lodged in her mind and a growing fear she couldn't quite explain.

Alex was ill.

Not temporarily unwell. Not suffering from something that would simply pass after a few days of rest.

He had a condition that required ongoing treatment, one that could still cause frightening episodes despite his medication.

And she'd known nothing about it.

---

By the time Sierra arrived home, she felt completely drained.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"Sam?"

No answer.

Sam wasn't home.

Sierra dropped her bag on the couch and stood there for a moment, staring at the quiet living room. Usually, she'd welcome the silence after a long shift. Tonight, it only gave her more room to think.

She went upstairs, changed into comfortable clothes, and returned to the living room. She didn't turn on the television or bother looking for something to eat. Instead, she settled on the couch, pulled her legs beneath her, and stared at the floor.

She could still see him.

Alex on the stretcher.

Joan running beside him, calling his name and trying so hard to remain composed.

Sierra pressed her lips together.

She wished she'd asked the doctor more questions. She wished she'd known what to ask in the first place.

How long had Alex been living with this?

How often did it happen?

How frightening was it for him to know that another seizure could come?

And how had he managed to keep all of it from her?

Sierra lowered her head into her hands.

Three years ago, she'd stood in front of Alex, asking him to explain why they couldn't be together. She'd wanted an honest answer, something that would help her understand why he'd changed his mind so suddenly.

Instead, he'd pushed her away.

She'd left that conversation believing he simply hadn't wanted her enough to try.

Now she couldn't stop wondering whether his illness had been the reason.

Had he already known about his condition when he'd rejected her? Had he been dealing with it alone while she stood there, asking him to give their relationship a chance?

The thought made her chest ache.

She remembered how firmly he'd spoken, how carefully he'd avoided giving her an explanation. She remembered the look on his face when she'd told him she thought they could work.

I really thought we could work.

She could still hear her own voice saying it.

And now she wondered what he'd been thinking when she'd said those words.

Had he wanted to tell her?

Had he wanted to stay?

Sierra squeezed her eyes shut.

She couldn't know what had been going through his mind, and she didn't want to invent answers simply because she was hurting. But the possibility that he'd been facing something so serious while refusing to let her in left her feeling devastated.

She had been angry with him for years. Hurt, confused, and embarrassed that she'd cared so much about someone who seemed so determined to walk away from her.

But she had never considered that he might have been carrying a burden she knew nothing about.

And now she couldn't stop thinking about how alone he might have felt.

Her phone lay on the couch beside her.

She picked it up, unlocked it, and stared at the screen.

She didn't have Alex's number.

She could ask Joan. She could send Samantha a message and explain what she'd seen. She could try to find out whether Alex was still in the hospital.

But what would she say if she got the chance to speak to him?

Why didn't you tell me?

The question seemed inadequate now.

She wanted to ask if he was all right. She wanted to know whether the doctors had managed to stabilise him and whether he was still receiving treatment.

More than anything, she wanted to know if he had been all right when he walked away from her three years ago.

But she couldn't go back and ask him those questions now. She couldn't change the way things had happened, and she couldn't undo the years they'd spent apart.

All she could do was sit there with the knowledge she'd gained that afternoon and the memory of the man she'd once loved being rushed into an emergency department.

Sierra set her phone down.

For a long time, she remained on the couch, barely moving.

She had thought she'd made peace with losing Alex. She'd accepted that whatever they might have had was over, and she'd tried to build a life that no longer depended on understanding his choices.

But now she knew there had been something serious behind his silence, something that might have changed everything she'd believed about their last conversation.

And she couldn't tell whether that made her more heartbroken or more afraid.

Because beneath the hurt, beneath the questions and the frustration, there was one feeling she couldn't push away.

She was scared for him.

Not for the man who had rejected her. Not for the person who had left her wondering what she'd done wrong.

For Alex.

The person she'd fallen so stubbornly in love with, and yet, in so many ways, had never truly understood.

Sierra drew a shaky breath and leaned back against the couch.

She wished Sam were home. She wished she had someone to talk to, someone who could sit beside her while she tried to make sense of everything.

But the house remained silent.

And for the first time since Alex had walked away from her, Sierra found herself wishing he had trusted her enough to tell her the truth.

Not because it would have guaranteed they'd stayed together.

Not because she could have fixed what was happening to him.

But because she would have wanted to know.

She would have wanted the chance to understand.

And she would have wanted him to know that he didn't have to face everything alone.

Sierra lowered her gaze, blinking away the tears that had gathered in her eyes.

She had no idea what would happen next.

She only knew that Alex was ill, that what she'd witnessed that afternoon had been serious, and that the man she'd spent three years trying to forget still mattered to her far more than she'd ever admitted.

And that knowledge hurt in a way she wasn't prepared for.