Beep beep!
The hospital monitor echoed through the quiet room where Andrew lay unconscious, blissfully unaware that just the night before, he'd cursed out an innocent couple.
"Hmm, where am I?" a barely conscious Andrew mumbled as he looked around, his mind still foggy.
"Wait, the hospital? Why am I… oh yeah, I got hit because I was jealous about being single," Andrew sighed, shaking his head.
"But I didn't die! I knew fate didn't hate me… jokes on you, Chase!" he declared, as if he had just won a prize.
"But damn, my hand hurts. Luckily, I'm not seriously injured. I guess I'll be stuck in the hospital for a few days. Oh damn, fate! I missed the hot man reality TV show! I'll have to search it up on YouTube," he lamented with a dramatic sigh.
"Oh, you're awake, Mr. Andrew," the nurse said as she entered the room.
"Yes, I am," he replied flatly, clearly unimpressed.
*Why is she asking me a stupid question when it's clear I'm awake?* Andrew thought, feeling unnecessarily stressed.
"Your injuries aren't too serious, but you need to be careful. Don't let water touch it, okay?" she instructed while adjusting his IV drip.
"Okay," Andrew said, his expression tired.
As he watched the nurse step out of his room, he closed his eyes, wanting to rest. Suddenly, Andrew saw it: the golden threads of fate shimmering in front of him.
Excited, he jumped off the bed—*bam!*—he smacked the floor, hard.
Groaning, he crawled up, eyes wide.
"Oh God, That's the golden thread of fate! In front of me?! This can't be a dream".
"Okay, okay, breathe... Let's not freak out", he muttered, squeezing his eyes.
Then slowly, cautiously, he peeled them open one at a time.
Still there, The thread. Glowing. Real.
He stood up immediately, yanking the IV needle from his arm without a second thought, not caring about the blood dripping on the floor.
"He is here! My hot, sexy man! The man of my dreams!" Andrew screamed, excitement lighting up his face.
He opened the door slowly, carefully—one step at a time—as he walked toward the direction the thread was leading him.
He ignored the people around him and the nurses calling out to him, wondering where he was going. Strangely, the hospital felt crowded, as if everyone on Earth was sick and admitted there.
"God, why is this hospital so crowded? Is everyone in the city sick or something?" he muttered, dodging gurneys and IV stands.
"Seriously—is this the only hospital around?!"
Then the thread tugged him toward the stairwell.
And he didn't walk.
He jumped.
Three steps at a time, practically flying. The thread guided him like a GPS possessed by Cupid.
Eventually, it led him to a quiet hallway. He stopped in front of a plain, unassuming door.
But something about it felt... off.
"Hmm. Weird vibe," he murmured, tilting his head.
With a deep breath, he slowly opened the door, excitement bubbling on his face. Inside lay a stunning person, clearly unconscious.
There was something haunting in how still he lay—like a painting abandoned in a burning house.
Even so, the person was extraordinarily beautiful. Their blackish-brown hair was neatly arranged, and their long eyelashes seemed almost artificial, lazily resting like they were on a parade. Their fair skin was so pale it could give Snow White a run for her money—like they were on an expensive skincare routine.
"This is what I'm talking about, baby! Damn, so beautiful, so hot. I know my destined one will be breathtaking!" he exclaimed, taking in the sight as if his life depended on it.
"Damn, f***k, he is hot… huh? Why is the chest area kinda swollen?! Or am I seeing things?" he said, confusion etched on his face.
"That looks like breasts. They're big, like a woman's!" he said, shocked, still standing there, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him.
"Haha, fate, you're joking with me, right? You must be joking!" he said, alternating between shock and wondering where his dream man was.
He took a closer look at the golden thread of fate—it was slightly reddish-golden.
"Huh, why is it a little red? Based on what I've heard, researched, and what's been spoken about, it's supposed to be pure gold. What is going on?"
While still deep in thought, someone stepped into the room—a nurse there to check on the patient.
Surprised, she asked, "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
Andrew snapped back to reality. "Oh, uh, the name sounded like my middle school classmate, so I came to check," he stammered, too flustered to think clearly.
The nurse raised an eyebrow. "Sounded?"
"I mean, it looked like my middle school classmate. I was surprised and came to check," he clarified, a little embarrassed.
"Oh, I see," she replied, her tone softening.
"What happened?" Andrew asked, trying to gather some information. "She stopped coming to school, and I couldn't reach her. I was really worried."
"This is private information, but since you said you were friends in middle school, I should tell you," she said, adding under her breath, "It's not like anyone else is coming to check on her anyway."
"Huh?" Andrew said, confused.
"Well, she's being monitored by the police, and she's the suspect in the murder of her entire family. She almost killed her father and herself when the police arrived," the nurse said, a sad expression crossing her face.
"All the evidence points to her killing her family. The weapon has her fingerprints on it. Everything indicates she's guilty. But it hasn't been fully determined because she's been unconscious and in a coma since the incident. She'll probably spend life in prison when she wakes up and is found guilty," the nurse added.
"Huh… huh… wait, wait… what?!" Andrew screamed as he passed out.