(still Around 12 Am, At "The Wong's hospital" :;)
( At the Ground Floor , the reciptionst area )":
....Dr. Natt reminded him, "You should have eaten it before coming here. It'll get cold."
Wut reassured her, "Don't worry, Mom. I can warm it up later. Have a nice day."
As Wut said his goodbye, "Have a nice day, Mom," he turned to leave.
Dr. Natt's expression turned serious, and she asked, "Wut, have you seen him yet ?"
Wut stopped and turned back, his eyes dropping. "I'm sorry, Mom. I have to go now."
Dr. Natt's gaze lingered on Wut. "Wut, why don't you go see him before you leave?"
Wut's voice took on a slightly frustrated tone. "Why do you keep doing this, Mom? Every time I come here, you're always bringing him up."
Dr. Natt's voice was gentle but firm. "Come on, Wut. He's your father."
Wut's anger boiled over, and he shouted, "My father? Since when has he ever deserved that title? Don't bother trying to make me feel otherwise, because honestly, I think he's better off dead."
The hospital room fell silent, with everyone staring at Wut and his mom. Dr. Natt's eyes welled up with tears, and she looked devastated.
Wut's outburst hung in the air, and he suddenly stopped talking, realizing the impact of his words. He saw the pain in his mom's eyes, and his anger faltered.
Dr. Natt's eyes brimmed with tears, her lower lip trembling as she struggled to hold back her emotions. A single tear escaped, rolling down her cheek.
Wut's anger faltered immediately, as he saw the familiar pain in his mom's eyes, a look that seemed to echo old wounds. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Please, Mom... don't call him that," he pleaded, his words cracking with emotion. "Just... don't."
His eyes searched his mom's face, imploring her to understand, to spare him the agony of hearing that word. With a final, desperate glance, Wut turned and walked away, leaving his mom standing alone, her eyes fixed on him with a mix of sorrow and concern as she watched him disappear from view.
Wut walked out of the hospital, the weight of his words still heavy in his chest. He couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt and regret that had washed over him after his outburst. The bright sunlight and bustling sounds of the city seemed to mock him, highlighting the darkness within.
As he walked, the silence was oppressive, punctuated only by the sound of his footsteps. He felt like he was walking away from more than just the hospital – he was walking away from the pain and the memories that lingered within those walls.
The city streets blurred together as Wut's mind replayed the argument. He couldn't help but wonder what had triggered his outburst. Was it the accumulated pain and anger that had been building up over the years?
As he turned a corner, Wut spotted a small café. He walked in, hoping to find some solace in the quiet atmosphere. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped him, and he took a seat at a corner table, lost in thought.
The barista approached him, concern etched on her face. "Are you okay? You look troubled." Wut forced a smile, but it faltered. "Just a long day," he said, trying to brush it off.
The barista nodded sympathetically. "Sorry to hear that. What can I get for you?" Wut thought for a moment before ordering, "Ice latte, please."
The barista nodded and headed to the counter to prepare his drink. Wut waited, his eyes gazing out the window as the sounds of the city filtered in. A few minutes passed before the barista returned with his ice latte. Wut took a sip, feeling the coolness of the coffee soothe his frazzled nerves.
As he sipped the latte, Wut's thoughts drifted back to his mom. Just then, his phone buzzed with a LINE notification. He glanced down to see a message from his mom: "Get home safe. sweetie, Don't let you food get cold."
Wut's eyes landed on the message, and he felt a familiar sense of frustration wash over him. Almost as if on cue, his mom had reached out, acting like everything was fine. It was a pattern he'd grown accustomed to, but it still annoyed him – the messages, the small talk, the attempts to maintain a sense of normalcy even when things weren't okay.
This was her way of handling things, her way of keeping herself calm and in control. He was about to put his phone away without responding, but the image of his mom's sad eyes flashed in his mind.
Something about that look made him play along, made him type out a quick response, ...