UNDENIABLY DESTINED

CHAPTER 14

Aadaya and Marcus found themselves perched on her hospital bed, quietly observing the frenzied activity of her aunt. Aunt Miranda's harried state had propelled her to the hospital in record time, laden with an excessive amount of items meant for Aadaya. Many of these items remained untouched and were promptly discarded, their wrappers tossed into an overflowing dustbin. She darted from one end of Aadaya's limited hospital space to the other, muttering to herself in a rush.

Aadaya and Marcus exchanged amused glances, their eyes tracking Aunt Miranda's frantic movements with a comical synchrony. Seated on the bed, Aadaya sported her largest hoodie, a garment she had "borrowed" from her brother. Her hair was in disarray, and her oversized glasses perched precariously on her nose, lending her a whimsical resemblance to an owl, albeit a cute one. Marcus, on the other hand, wore his pyjamas, and they snuggled together like a bear and her cub, observing the commotion with a mixture of amusement and affection.

As the doctor approached, bearing discharge papers and a warm smile, he inspected Aadaya's bandages and offered some gentle advice. "Take it easy. Your brain needs plenty of rest," he cautioned her, directing his words to Aadaya. Turning to Aunt Miranda, he discussed post-hospital care instructions, leaving the duo to observe the doctor's interaction with Aunt Miranda.

Aunt Miranda soon received the news that Aadaya was ready to leave the hospital, and the doctor redirected his attention to Marcus. He beckoned Marcus to join him, prompting the boy to hug Aadaya and make a heartfelt plea. "Come meet me...please," he implored, his eyes watery, and his face flushed with emotion. Aadaya's heart melted at his endearing plea, and she assured him, "Of course, I surely will."

With that, Marcus left her embrace and walked over to the doctor, taking his hand. As he left the room, he cast one final, hopeful look at Aadaya, waving his hand before disappearing from her view.

The room fell silent, and Aadaya resumed her position on the bed, her head bandaged as she patiently awaited her aunt's completion of the preparations. Then, without warning, the hospital room door swung open wide, and in marched a woman with arms outstretched and a beaming, almost unsettlingly wide smile on her face. Aadaya felt an uneasy shiver crawl up her spine as she watched the woman's approach.

Bringing up the rear, a colossal bouquet entered the room, its sheer size dwarfing everything around it. Chris, the bearer of this oversized floral offering, strolled in, causing Aadaya's mouth to fall open in astonishment. She couldn't help but question, "Where did you get that, and why...?"

Before she could finish her query, Saddie strode forward, crouching down to Aadaya's level. She easily scooped Aadaya into her arms, her towering stature unfazed by the act, and as Chris offered an explanation, "You know... how are you feeling?" Meanwhile, Aunt Miranda completed her packing with a triumphant declaration, "Now we are ready."

Aadaya responded to Chris's concern, "I'm fine... a lot better," as she wrapped her arms around Saddie's neck for better access to her. Chris scrutinized her bandaged head with a concerned furrow in his brow. Saddie chimed in, "You should have also gotten a fracture; we had a plaster ready for signing and drawing," her comment inciting excitement from Chris.

The scene was a blend of chaos and camaraderie, as they prepared to leave the hospital, their interactions filled with warmth and lighthearted banter. Aunt Miranda's overzealous packing and Chris's oversized bouquet were the stars of the show, adding a touch of humour to an otherwise tense situation.

Chris's eyes practically twinkled with the idea of decorating Aadaya's plaster cast. He nodded so vigorously that it seemed like he was auditioning for a headbanging competition. "Oh, absolutely! I could have turned that cast into a masterpiece," he exclaimed, his artistic ambitions overriding any concern for Aadaya's well-being. Aadaya, on the other hand, shot him a withering glare that could have curdled milk.