The nurse entered the room with Misha's father on her tail; the man had been following her around like a shadow. Her mouth twitched a little, but she did her best not to let her annoyance show.
"Misha, how do you feel?" she asked mildly.
"Fine," the boy cleared his throat. "I feel fine."
In the time that it took for the nurse to arrive, Misha had more or less managed to regulate his breathing. It was still a bit unnatural, but it wasn't as rapid and shallow as a few minutes ago.
Nevertheless, after examining the boy and hearing what happened, the nurse informed a doctor without delay, asking them to come as soon as possible. Misha was a particular case that no one could make head or tail of, and any change in his condition was to be reported right away.
After a round of questions and tests, the doctor concluded that it was a false alarm. But they did find it a bit odd and noted it in Misha's medical file. They then told the boy to notify them immediately if he suffered from similar symptoms again. The doctor's voice was overly serious, and Misha could only respond with a nod, not even daring to say a word.
Satisfied, the medical staff left under the father's penetrating stare, who had observed their every move from beginning to end. He stood near his son like a watchdog, making the doctor and nurse unconsciously nervous.
Although Misha said nothing, he knew perfectly well what caused him to hyperventilate. Still, he wouldn't tell a soul. In his eyes, a panic attack was nothing to be proud of—it also made him feel deeply ashamed of himself. The fewer people knew about it, the better he would feel.
Besides, Misha didn't want anyone to delve into the matter too much. His father was not yet human trash, and his body was not covered in scars and bruises. He had no proof of his father's physical abuse, and thus he couldn't accuse him. Aside from breaking apart his family, what else talking about it would it do?
As long as his father didn't pick up his bad habit from their past life, Misha would shut up and allow him to stay with his family. He was all too aware of how much his mother loved Alexey, and how broken she would become without him by her side.
His father was not the perfect husband, but he cared for his wife and always put her first. When the couple was together, Alexey was like a puppy in front of its master; he seemed to grow a tail and shake it happily, waiting to be pet. Or, in other words, his aloof father turned into a stupid man whenever his mother was in the vicinity. This silly scene was a bittersweet memory that Misha had never been able to forget.
In the end, Misha couldn't bear to destroy his mother's happiness. All he wanted was for her and his sister to be happy, nothing else. And deep down, he knew his father was necessary to achieve this. That man was someone they both loved dearly, whether Misha liked it or not.
'What a pain,' he thought.
But although Misha decided not to toss his father aside if he didn't go astray, it didn't mean he'd make things easy for him. Even if Alexey was an exemplary father in this timeline, Misha couldn't forget what he had done in their previous life. The scars ran too deep.
If it weren't for his mother and his sister, Misha would gladly have destroyed his father's life without batting an eyelash—or so he loved to think.
Anyway, Misha could put his grievances aside, but it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart. He still planned to slowly distance himself from his father and stay on his guard. Alexey was like a sword of Damocles; he could bring hell upon his family at any time. But he could also very well bring heaven—only time could tell what path he would choose. In the meantime, all Misha could do was try his best to prevent a disaster from happening and, if he failed, make sure his mother and his sister could face it.
Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Misha didn't have the strength to confront his father as of now. He wouldn't say it aloud, but he had lost his brazing confidence along with his healthy and tall body. As an adult, he could easily send a man flying with a single kick. But as a kid.... Sigh. It'd already be good if he didn't break a bone after hitting someone.
After the medical staff left, Misha pretended to be sleepy. He was fainting so often lately that no one was surprised by the sudden sleepiness. Only the old lady didn't understand why he wanted to sleep when it wasn't even noon. Weren't they supposed to go shopping in the afternoon? It wasn't the time to stay in bed! Her great-granddaughter needed to come with her to help her choose the perfect dress for her birthday! And they also needed to buy a cat. She felt too lonely lately.
Everyone in the room tacitly decided to ignore her.
Alexey silently sat on the plastic chair, his long legs crossed in front of him. He glared at the old lady, wishing she'd shut up for a minute—she was disturbing his son's rest, irking him to no end. However, she was still an old lady, and being rude to an old lady was a no-go. Therefore, he only stared at her with an icy expression, trying to convey his dissatisfaction with his eyes. It didn't work very well, however.
Although Misha was only resting his eyes, he also found the old lady's nagging quite annoying. Her words didn't make any sense. It was impossible to follow her train of thought. He suddenly wondered how Gabriel could discuss with her without losing his mind; he almost felt admirative. Almost.
While the old lady was mumbling about who knew what, Misha let his thoughts wander, pondering how he should handle his father and Gabriel. Pranks were good and all, but they weren't foolproof.
Until lunch, Misha was thus deep in thought, and his fever went up slightly. Only when it was time to eat did he stop pretending to be asleep. He didn't want his father to push his shoulder to wake him up, so he flung his eyes open and sat on the bed. The food was set on the wheeled table, and Alexey brought it closer to him. Then, Misha started to eat his not-so-good meal without a word.
As the boy shoved the food down his throat, a little girl and a man entered the room.
"Sorry to bother you while you're eating," the man apologized as he walked to the old lady's bedside. His attention switched to the woman lying in bed, and he didn't pay any more heed to the other patients. "Hi there, Nana. How have you been?"
A little surprised, Misha couldn't help but sneak a glance at the visitors. Since he moved into this room a few days ago, it was the first time people had come to visit the old lady. So, of course, they piqued his curiosity, and he unconsciously sized them up.
It was a man in his early thirties and a girl that seemed a bit younger than him—she was probably around seven or eight years old. The man was, if put bluntly, nothing special. He had the kind of face that people tended to forget quickly, one that was easily lost in a crowd. He was neither handsome nor ugly, neither thin nor fat. Misha could only describe him as plain.
But the little girl wasn't as dull as the man—quite the contrary, actually. If anything, she looked adorable. Her chocolate-brown hair reached her waist and was a bit curly. She had an oval face that still held a trace of baby fat, light-brown eyes that sparkled with curiosity, a small nose, and pinkish lips.
Frowning, Misha stared at her for a long time. He didn't know why, but that girl felt eerily familiar.
While he was trying to remember where he had seen her, the father-daughter duo took some news about the old lady's health. Soon, the boy learned that the little girl was the famous great-granddaughter. The moment he heard this, Misha choked on his food, spilling his soup on the table.
Misha wanted to scream at the top of his lungs that they didn't look alike at all! How could the old lady mistake him for the little girl?! His hair was blonde and relatively short, and his eyes were crystal blue. They weren't even close to brown! The only thing they had in common was the color of their skin: an ordinary, typical white. He could understand that her memories were blurry, but still!
The constatation made him feel depressed, and the next time his gaze landed on the girl, it held a hint of resentment. It was her fault if he went through hell these past few days!
While thinking of such things, Misha met the girl's eyes, and he was stunned silly. That playful and mischievous look.... he could swear he had seen it many times before. But where?
"Vanessa?" the man called after realizing his daughter wasn't listening. "What are you looking at?"
"Nothing!" the girl sweetly smiled, throwing a playful glance at Misha before bringing back her attention to the old lady. "I missed you, Nana!"
While the kid kissed her great-grandmother's cheeks, Misha's jaws almost dropped.
'You gotta be kidding me!'
He couldn't believe it. If he remembered correctly, his friend at this age was living in America, close to the Canadian border. She had no reason to be here. Well, there was the old lady, but Misha momentarily forgot her existence.
A little nervous, Misha asked, "Mister? What's your name?"
"Me?" The man pointed at himself, seemingly surprised by the question. Misha responded with a nod, and the man answered with a small smile, "Dean Abbett."
'So his daughter should be called Vanessa Abbett, right?' Misha thought, foolishly staring at the little girl.
Maybe they just shared the same name?
Feeling his heartbeat accelerate, Misha decided to ask another question, even if it'd make him appear somewhat rude. In any case, he had never been the kind to be polite.
"Why haven't you come sooner? I've been here for a while, but no one came to visit Nathalie until now!"
"Well," Dean coughed, rubbing his neck, "my family lives in Buffalo, so it's quite far from here. And we couldn't make time before today, so, you know?"
Misha was dumbstruck. Even the timid man corresponded to Vanessa's description of her father. 'Wasn't I supposed to meet her in fourteen years?! In a bar! Why is our first meeting so freakin out of place now?!'
First, Alexey cut short his business trip, coming back sooner than expected, and now this. Was it the butterfly effect that Santa Claus had talked about? Honestly, Misha had no idea. All he knew was that he had transmigrated for a bit more than two weeks, and yet, the timeline was already getting out of hand!
Goddammit, he only had a fever! How the hell did it mess up the timeline so much?!
___________
Chapter revised on 2022-05-01
Edited by Clozed! ♥
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