Sleep, wake up, walk, work, repeat. That was Miguel’s basic life cycle for the past few months.

Moving to the villa was a bad decision. He wished he could go back to his apartment instead. ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚

            When he moved to the estate, he had to wake up earlier than usual just so he would not be late. He had to endure the pain of walking for an hour just to get to a bus stop outside the exclusive neighborhood. He had to beat the rush hour to get to his destination early. The commute to his workplace required a couple of transfers from a bus to a train. And then he had to walk a lot of steps again. All in all, it took 2 hours to get to his workplace from the estate.

            His duty hours at the school started at 7:30 in the morning and ended at 3:30 PM. His next part time job was from 4 pm to 8 pm. During weekends he spends the whole day working at a massage parlor. By the time he reached home  during  weekdays it would be almost 10 pm.

            This went on for weeks. The fatigue already started to settle in his body. But he kept pushing himself. He took a pain reliever the second time for that day.

            Marian called him to inform that his father’s surgery was already set.

            Miguel was so worried, he slept late praying over and over again.

            The following day, he called Marian and had a brief conversation with his father before the old man was brought inside the operating room. Miguel was distracted while working in his work. It was a good thing that the task that day was light. In the evening Marian messaged him that the surgery was done and that his father was now in the recovery room.

            Miguel took a breath of relief.

As soon as he reached the estate, he just took a bath and slept. Dinner was left forgotten again.

            The following day was Sunday. Marian called him in the morning and told him that Gilberto had woken up. They had a brief video call and Miguel was able to see his recovering father.

Gilberto still looked weak but he could still make jokes. For the first time after many months Miguel felt relief.

            That night Miguel arrived at the estate later than usual. It was raining and he was soaking wet. Clutching his belly, he took small but constant steps. His stomach was so painful and his body felt so heavy. He was shivering badly too. But he could not allow himself to collapse on the road. The worse could happen when one was alone in the darkness.

By the grace of the heavens, he finally reached the villa. Only when he entered the door did he let go of his barriers. His adrenaline wore off and the pain attacked him.

            Ystell heard a light thud and so she searched for the source of the unusual sound. She panicked when he saw Miguel lying on the floor. She tried to rouse him but the boy groaned in agony and curled up even more.

            In her old age, she could not carry a grown-up man upstairs. Henry and herself were the only ones staying in the main building. She walked as fast as she her legs would allow her and frantically knocked on the study.

            When they reached the foyer, the boy remained curled up tightly on the floor. His clothes were soaking wet. His face was pale and his lips lost their color. He clutched his abdomen as he groaned in pain.

Henry lifted the boy effortlessly. He frowned.

Too light.

            It seemed he made a mistake by choosing a sickly person for his plans.

            Miguel scratched the back of his left hand. But a warm large hand held his wrist. When he opened his eyes, he was met by a stranger.

            “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The tall blond man tutted.

            Miguel pulled his right hand away from the man’s grasp. A bag of fluid was hung up in a pole beside the bed. The fluid flowed to the needle was stuck at the back of his left hand.

            He was not in a hospital. That’s good. He could not afford to waste a single penny.

            “I’m doctor Seville. You can call me Victor or Vic whichever you prefer. What’s your name?”

            “Miguel.” He whispered.

            “Are you still in pain?”

            Miguel refused to answer.

            “Hey it’s alright. You can talk to me. I’m a good guy.” Victor grinned.

            After meeting Mr. Kingsley, Miguel was not too sure about this new guy.

“I still feel pain in my stomach. But it is bearable.”

            “Where else do you feel uncomfortable?”

            “Everywhere. My muscles ache… It’s still uncomfortable to move.” Miguel was still curled up on the bed. Small movements caused a pang in his stomach.

“Did you eat something strange lately?”

            “No… I-“ He forgot to eat. It was not his fault. He just did not have the time. That was what Miguel thought to convince himself.

            “How long since your last meal?” The doctor prodded.

            “Yesterday… I ate at lunch.”

            “Do you often skip meals?”

            Miguel shook his head in denial.

            “How often do you eat? Thrice a day?”

            Miguel refused to respond.

            “Twice a day? Once a day?”

            Victor frowned. He finally got it.

            “You eat once a day.” He stated as a matter of fact. “What you are experiencing is what we call gastritis. It’s the gnawing pain in your stomach that also causes nausea. Poor eating habits and excessive intake of pain relievers on an empty stomach can exacerbate the problem.”

            Victor was curious about this boy’s presence. Henry usually did not bring strangers in his villa.