The first sign that something had gone wrong was Adrian’s silence.
He had promised to message when he finished the meeting.
Kai hadn’t expected an immediate reply. Adrian’s version of later could mean an hour, sometimes two. But when midnight arrived and the message still hadn’t come, Kai found himself checking his phone every few minutes.
By one fifteen, he stopped pretending he was studying.
He stared at the screen, then typed:
Kai: Are you alive?
No response.
He waited five minutes.
Kai: If you’ve been murdered by your board, blink twice.
Still nothing.
Kai tossed the phone onto his bed and rubbed his tired eyes. He had an early lecture, another hospital form to complete, and a shift scheduled after class.
He should sleep.
Instead, he picked up his phone again.
A new message appeared.
Marcus: Kai, I’m sorry to contact you this late. Adrian is in a meeting with the legal team. He asked me to let you know he may not be able to call tonight.
Kai’s stomach tightened.
He read the message again.
Kai: Is he okay?
Marcus replied almost immediately.
Marcus: He’s fine physically. The supplier negotiations have become more complicated than expected.
Kai leaned back against his pillow.
Kai: What happened?
There was a pause.
Marcus: I’m not sure how much Adrian would want me to discuss.
Kai frowned.
He understood professional boundaries. He also knew Adrian hated allowing people to worry about him from a distance.
Kai: Then don’t tell me anything he wouldn’t want you to tell me. Just tell me whether he’s safe.
Marcus: He is safe.
Kai let out a breath.
Kai: Thank you.
He placed the phone aside.
The relief was brief.
If Adrian was safe, why did Kai still feel as though something had shifted beneath his feet?
The following morning, he arrived at class with dark circles beneath his eyes and an expression that discouraged conversation.
Ethan looked at him once.
“You didn’t sleep.”
“I did.”
“For how long?”
“Long enough.”
“That’s not a number.”
“It’s the only answer you’re getting.”
Ethan handed him a wrapped sandwich. “Eat.”
Kai stared at it. “Did you poison this?”
“No. I considered it, but then I remembered you’d probably survive and sue me.”
“I don’t have money for a lawsuit.”
“Exactly. Financially irresponsible.”
Kai took the sandwich.
Ethan’s expression softened. “Did something happen with Adrian?”
Kai paused.
“Marcus messaged me last night. Adrian’s negotiations became complicated.”
“Is he okay?”
“Apparently.”
“That doesn’t sound reassuring.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
Ethan leaned against the desk. “Have you spoken to him?”
“No.”
“Maybe he’s busy.”
“I know.”
“Then stop looking at your phone like you want to threaten it.”
Kai glanced down.
The screen was dark, but he had been checking it every few minutes.
“I’m not worried,” he said.
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
Kai took a bite of the sandwich. “I’m monitoring the situation.”
“Of course. Very scientific.”
Before Kai could answer, Professor Miller entered the classroom.
The lecture began, but Kai struggled to concentrate. He took notes, answered questions when called upon, and forced himself to follow the material. Still, his attention kept returning to the same thought.
Adrian had been in Singapore for days.
His company was facing pressure from investors.
The supplier negotiations were deteriorating.
And Kai had no idea what was happening.
At the end of the lecture, his phone finally vibrated.
Adrian: Good morning.
Kai stared at the message.
He wanted to respond immediately, but anger rose alongside his relief.
He typed:
Kai: You’re alive.
Adrian: Apparently.
Kai: Marcus told me.
Adrian: I asked him to let you know.
Kai: You could have told me yourself.
The typing indicator appeared.
Disappeared.
Then returned.
Adrian: You’re right.
Kai’s fingers paused.
He had expected an explanation. Maybe an excuse. Instead, Adrian had accepted the accusation without defending himself.
Kai: What happened?
Adrian: The supplier changed the terms after we reached a preliminary agreement. They’re demanding a higher price and exclusive distribution rights.
Kai frowned.
Kai: Can they do that?
Adrian: They can demand it. Whether we accept is another question.
Kai: And the board?
Adrian: They want me to sign quickly before the supplier withdraws completely.
Kai sat down on the nearest bench.
Kai: Would signing be a bad decision?
Adrian: It would secure short-term stability but create long-term restrictions. We would become dependent on one supplier.
Kai: Then don’t sign.
Adrian: You make complicated business decisions sound very simple.
Kai: You asked for my opinion.
Adrian: I didn’t ask.
Kai: You told me anyway. That sounds like consent.
A pause followed.
Adrian: I missed you.
Kai’s irritation weakened.
He looked down at the screen.
Kai: You’re changing the subject.
Adrian: Yes.
Kai: Coward.
Adrian: I’m a busy coward.
Kai shook his head, but a small smile appeared.
Then another message came through.
Adrian: I should have called last night.
Kai’s smile faded.
Kai: Yes, you should have.
Adrian: I’m sorry.
Kai looked at the message for a long moment.
Kai: I don’t need you to report every minute of your day.
Adrian: I know.
Kai: But if something goes wrong, don’t let me find out from Marcus.
Adrian: Understood.
Kai: And don’t disappear because you think you’re protecting me.
Adrian: I won’t.
Kai wanted to believe him.
He did believe that Adrian meant it.
But promises became harder to trust when circumstances kept testing them.
Kai: Are you eating?
Adrian: Yes.
Kai: Real food?
Adrian: Define real.
Kai: Something that didn’t come from a vending machine.
The typing indicator appeared.
Adrian: You’re very controlling.
Kai: I learned from the best.
Adrian: I’ll send you a picture.
A few seconds later, Adrian sent a photograph of a meal arranged neatly on a hotel table.
Kai examined it.
Kai: That looks edible.
Adrian: High praise.
Kai: Don’t get emotional.
Before Adrian could reply, Ethan called from across the corridor.
“Kai! We’re leaving!”
Kai slipped his phone into his pocket.
Kai: I have class. We’ll talk later.
Adrian: Good luck today.
Kai hesitated, then typed:
Kai: Don’t make decisions just because people are pressuring you.
Adrian: I won’t.
Kai: And eat dinner.
Adrian: You too.
Kai put his phone away.
He wanted to feel reassured.
Instead, he felt the familiar strain of caring about someone whose problems he could not reach.
At the hospital that afternoon, the assistance office gave him another form.
Kai stared at it.
“Another one?”
The officer smiled apologetically. “The hospital needs a household income declaration before the subsidy can be finalized.”
“I submitted proof of income yesterday.”
“This is a separate declaration.”
Kai closed his eyes briefly.
“Of course it is.”
The officer slid the form toward him. “If you complete it today, we can process it faster.”
Kai sat down and began filling it out.
Monthly income.
Household expenses.
Medical costs.
Outstanding payments.
Every number felt like a confession.
His mother’s part-time wages. His own reduced earnings. Rent. Food. Transportation. Medication.
When he reached the section asking whether another person could contribute toward treatment, his pen stopped.
He thought of Adrian.
He thought of the money Adrian could provide without noticing its absence.
He also thought of the boundary they had discussed—the one Adrian had crossed when he began investigating assistance without permission.
Kai left the section blank.
The officer noticed.
“Is there someone who may contribute?”
Kai looked up. “There are people who could.”
“Then you can indicate that.”
“That doesn’t mean they will.”
“Of course. You only need to provide accurate information.”
Kai stared at the form.
Accurate information.
He wrote: Potential external support—unconfirmed.
Then he continued.
When he returned to his father’s room, his mother was speaking with a nurse. His father looked more comfortable than he had the previous day, though the fatigue in his face remained.
“You’re late,” his father said.
“I have a schedule.”
“You always have a schedule.”
“And yet you continue waiting for me.”
His father smiled. “Someone has to keep you humble.”
Kai placed the completed forms on the bedside table. “The medication assistance is being processed.”
“That’s good.”
“They need another income declaration.”
His mother turned toward him. “I can help with that.”
“I already completed it.”
“You should have asked.”
Kai looked at her.
She held his gaze. “You don’t have to be the only one who knows the details.”
Something inside him loosened.
“Next time,” he said.
His mother nodded. “Next time.”
His father reached for his hand.
Kai sat beside him.
For several minutes, they remained quiet.
Then his father said, “Have you heard from the man?”
Kai’s head snapped up. “What man?”
“The one who calls you.”
“His name is Adrian.”
“I know his name.”
“Then why did you say ‘the man’?”
“Because I enjoy irritating you.”
Kai stared at him.
His father smiled weakly. “Has he called?”
“He’s busy.”
“Busy people can still call.”
Kai looked away.
His father’s expression became more serious. “Does he make you unhappy?”
The question caught him off guard.
“No.”
“Then why do you look unhappy whenever you talk about him?”
Kai opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
His father squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t know.”
Kai lowered his gaze.
“I miss him,” he admitted.
His father nodded as though that explained everything.
“And I worry about him,” Kai continued. “But I don’t want to make his problems harder.”
“Caring about someone is not the same as becoming their burden.”
Kai looked up.
His father’s voice was gentle. “If he cares for you, he should know when you are worried. If you care for him, you should ask when he is struggling. You cannot build a relationship by hiding every difficult feeling.”
Kai swallowed.
The words struck close to the truth.
He had been afraid that needing Adrian would make him dependent. Adrian had been afraid that helping Kai would become control. Both of them had been learning how to stand close without stepping over each other.
But perhaps they were still mistaking silence for respect.
Kai looked at his phone.
There was no new message.
He opened the conversation and typed:
Kai: Are you okay?
He stared at the words.
Then he added:
Kai: You don’t have to explain everything. I just want to know how you’re doing.
He sent it.
This time, Adrian replied after several minutes.
Adrian: I’m not okay.
Kai’s heart sank.
Kai: What happened?
Adrian: The board voted to reject the alternative supplier unless I accept the original supplier’s revised terms.
Kai sat straighter.
Kai: They voted without you?
Adrian: They voted while I was negotiating.
Kai: Can they force you to accept?
Adrian: Not directly. But if I reject the agreement, the board may challenge the decision and call for an emergency leadership review.
Kai stared at the screen.
Adrian’s position wasn’t merely under pressure.
It was being questioned.
Kai: What are you going to do?
Adrian: I haven’t decided.
Kai: Good.
Adrian: Good?
Kai: It means you haven’t allowed them to make the decision for you.
A few seconds passed.
Adrian: I wish you were here.
Kai’s chest tightened.
Kai: I wish I could be.
Adrian: You don’t have to solve this.
Kai: I know.
Adrian: Then what can you do?
Kai looked through the hospital window at his father resting in bed.
He thought about the university meeting, the assistance forms, Ethan’s support, and the way Adrian had admitted he wasn’t okay.
Kai: I can listen.
Adrian didn’t answer immediately.
Then:
Adrian: Stay with me for a few minutes?
Kai’s eyes softened.
Kai: I’m here.
They remained connected through the phone while Adrian worked through the details of the negotiations. Kai didn’t understand every business term, and he didn’t pretend to. When Adrian asked what he thought, Kai asked questions. When Adrian fell silent, Kai didn’t rush to fill the space.
For once, neither of them tried to fix the other.
They simply stayed.
Eventually, Adrian said, “I have to meet the legal team again.”
“I know.”
“Kai?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
Kai looked down at his hand.
“Don’t thank me for listening.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not doing you a favor.”
Adrian was quiet.
Then he said, “That’s what makes it matter.”
The call ended shortly afterward.
Kai remained seated beside his father, his phone resting in his lap.
The situation had not improved. Adrian’s board was still pressuring him. Kai’s scholarship remained uncertain, and the hospital assistance process still required more paperwork.
But something had changed.
Adrian had told him the truth before he asked.
And Kai had stayed without demanding that he solve it.
Outside the room, Ethan appeared with two drinks.
“You look thoughtful,” he said.
“I’m always thoughtful.”
“You once tried to microwave a metal spoon.”
“That was research.”
Ethan handed him a drink. “How’s Adrian?”
Kai accepted it.
“Not okay.”
Ethan’s teasing expression disappeared. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Kai considered the question.
Then he nodded.
For the next ten minutes, he explained what he knew. Ethan listened without interrupting, then helped him think through the university meeting scheduled for the following day.
By the time Kai left the hospital, the sky had turned dark.
His phone vibrated as he reached the bus stop.
Adrian: I’m going to reject the agreement.
Kai stopped walking.
Kai: Are you sure?
Adrian: No.
Kai’s fingers tightened around the phone.
Adrian: But I’m sure I won’t accept terms that put the company in a weaker position just to satisfy the board’s deadline.
Kai let out a slow breath.
Kai: Then make the decision because you believe it’s right. Not because you want to prove something to them.
Adrian: I know.
Kai: And if it goes badly?
Adrian: I’ll deal with the consequences.
Kai stared at the message.
Then he typed:
Kai: You don’t have to deal with them alone.
The reply came almost instantly.
Adrian: Neither do you.
Kai smiled faintly.
The bus arrived, and he climbed aboard.
For the first time, he understood that standing beside someone did not always mean being physically present. Sometimes it meant hearing the truth, asking difficult questions, and refusing to disappear when the answers were frightening.
The ground beneath both their lives was shifting.
Neither of them knew what would remain standing.
But this time, they were facing the uncertainty together.