Behind the Perfect Smile

Eliana's POV

Why does waiting always feel like punishment?

I sat up in bed, my back aching slightly from the weird hospital pillow.

My fingers fidgeted with the edge of the blanket as my thoughts twisted themselves into knots.

What's taking them so long?

What if he didn't agree?

What if he told them everything?

Would they yell?

Or worse—would they leave me behind again?

I didn't know which version of disappointment hurt more:

The loud kind, or the quiet one that feels like a locked door.

Then the door opened.

Dr. Waylon entered first, composed as ever, like he'd just returned from a diplomatic meeting with world leaders instead of... my parents.

And behind him—they walked in.

My mother, in a crisp beige blouse, clutched her designer bag like it was a lifeline.

My father didn't even look at me—his eyes were glued to his watch.

My mother glanced over me from head to toe.

"You should rest for a few days," she said, like she was reciting a line she barely rehearsed.

My father adjusted his cufflinks and added,

"We're flying out tonight. Business trip. We'll check on you when we're back."

That's it?

No questions.

No shouting.

No guilt-tripping?

They just... said it.

And stood there like the conversation was over.

I blinked.

"Okay."

They nodded like that was the right answer.

Then they turned—and left.

I sat there, stunned.

So... they weren't furious?

No dramatic speeches?

No passive-aggressive lectures about disgrace or disappointment?

Maybe they actually believed I was sick.

Maybe... for once... they thought I could handle it.

Or maybe—they just didn't want the drama to delay their flight.

The door clicked shut behind them.

"They didn't even ask if I was okay," I whispered.

"They wouldn't know how," Dr. Waylon said gently.

I looked up.

He was still standing near the door, his hands in the pockets of his coat, watching me with quiet concern.

"I'm sorry for dragging you into this," I said.

"You didn't drag me," he replied.

"You asked for help. There's nothing wrong with that."

I nodded, the lump in my throat growing tighter.

"You didn't have to help me. You could've reported it... told them the truth. But you didn't."

He stepped closer and pulled the visitor's chair beside my bed.

"I've seen students push themselves until they collapse," he said softly.

"But I've never seen someone wear their exhaustion so quietly."

I didn't know what to say.

"You're not weak, Eliana," he continued.

"But you're carrying too much alone."

He paused.

"This lie… it might buy you time. But it won't give you peace."

I swallowed.

"I just needed a break. Just a little space to figure things out."

"And I understand that," he said. "That's why I helped. But eventually… you'll have to confront the real problem. Not just delay it."

I looked away.

"They won't listen."

"Then try to make them hear you."

His voice wasn't forceful—just honest.

Steady.

Like someone trying to keep me balanced while I stood on shaky ground.

"I'll try," I whispered.

He stood.

"That's all I'm asking."

Before he left, he glanced back once.

"Take the time you asked for. Use it well.

But Eliana…"His voice softened.

"Don't forget to come back to yourself when it's over."

The door closed behind him.

The room fell quiet—too quiet.

Everything he said made sense.

But sense didn't make it easier.

I sat in bed for a while, replaying every word.

I wasn't ready to fix things with my parents.

Not yet.

But I wasn't ready to break, either.

My phone vibrated on the side table.

Mia.

I grabbed it and answered quickly.

"Hello?"

"Eliana! What the hell?!" her voice exploded into my ear.

"Why aren't you replying?! Where are you?! Are you even alive?!"

"I'm alive," I said, half-laughing, half-exhausted. "Relax."

"Don't tell me to relax! You disappeared after going viral like some dramatic telenovela heroine and then poof—no messages, no calls—nothing!"

"I fell."

"What?!"

"Down the stairs. I hit my head. I'm in the hospital."

There was a beat of silence.

"…Oh my God. Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I'm okay now, don't worry."

"Eliana, why didn't you call me? I would've come—"

"I know. I just… needed space. And rest."

"Where are your parents? What did they say?"

"They… left. Business trip."

"Wait—they left?! After all this?!"

"Yep. Shocking, I know. I'll explain everything tomorrow."

"Is this a 'pack snacks and bring tissues' kind of story?"

I looked out the window and whispered,

"Probably both."

"Okay, fine. You rest. I'll come tomorrow—with snacks and judgment."

"Deal."