Love Was Never The Deal

Ava’s POV

I let out a tired groan as my phone rings again loud, sharp, and completely distracting.

For the third time in less than five minutes.

“Seriously…” I mutter under my breath.

I run a hand through my slightly messy hair and carefully place the small glass plate back on the counter before I end up breaking it out of frustration. The restaurant is already getting busy, and the last thing I need is to lose focus now.

The phone keeps ringing.

I glance toward my handbag, hesitation flickering in my chest. Dad knows I work late on Fridays. He never calls me during my shift unless it’s something important.

And it’s not even eight yet.

Something feels… off.

“Madam Rena!” I call out, raising my voice slightly as I grab my phone. “Can I take this call quickly? It might be urgent!”

From across the restaurant, she doesn’t even look up.

“Don’t waste time, Ava!” she snaps. “You know how Fridays are. Customers are already coming in, and Yvonne still isn’t answering her phone!”

I press my lips together, trying not to sound annoyed.

“Yes, Madam Rena! Just a minute—I’ll be right back!”

Without waiting for another response, I hurry toward the back door and step outside. The cool evening air hits my face, but it does nothing to calm the strange unease building inside me.

I quickly answer the call and press the phone to my ear.

“Dad,” I start immediately, my voice already laced with frustration, “come on. You know I work late on Fridays. Why are you calling me before eight? Is everything—”

I stop.

That’s not his voice.

Instead, a calm, unfamiliar female voice speaks from the other end.

“Hello… am I speaking with Miss Ava?”

My brows knit together instantly.

Confusion settles in first… then something colder.

Fear.

Why is a stranger answering my father’s phone?

“Hello?” the woman repeats when I don’t respond. “Are you still on the line?”

I swallow hard, my grip tightening around the phone.

“Yes,” I say, my voice lower now, cautious. “This is Ava. Who are you… and why are you calling me from my father’s phone?”

There’s a brief pause, then she speaks again—calm, professional, almost too composed.

“Please try to stay calm, Miss Ava. My name is Doctor Mary.”

My heart skips.

No… no, no…

“Your father was brought into the hospital about an hour ago,” she continues. “We’ve been trying to reach you, but it seems you were unavailable.”

For a second, everything goes silent.

The world around me fades—the noise from inside the restaurant, the distant sound of cars, even my own breathing.

Hospital?

My dad?

“No…” I whisper, pulling the phone away slightly as if I heard wrong.

This has to be a mistake.

Or a prank.

It has to be.

I quickly glance at the screen again.

It’s his number.

My chest tightens painfully.

“Hello, Miss Ava?” the doctor’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. “I need you to respond if you’re still there. I understand this may be difficult to process, but your father is stable for now.”

Stable.

That word barely settles my fear.

“Please calm yourself wherever you are,” she adds gently, “and listen carefully.” Her voice steadies me, if only a little.

I press a hand against my chest, forcing myself to breathe slowly just like she said. Inhale. Exhale. Again.

“Y-Yes, Doctor,” I manage to say, though my voice still trembles. “Where is the hospital? Where can I see my father? Is he really okay? Please… how do I get to him?”

My palms are damp, my fingers tightening around the phone as anxiety begins to creep back in.

“I’ll answer all your questions when you arrive,” she replies calmly. “I’ll send you the hospital’s name and address shortly. But first, I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything,” I blurt out immediately. “Anything at all, just please help him.”

There’s a soft pause on the line before she speaks again.

“I need you to stay calm, Miss Ava. Don’t panic, don’t rush. Make your way here safely. Your father needs you steady, not distressed.”

I swallow hard, nodding even though she can’t see me.

“Okay… okay, Doctor. Thank you.”

The call ends.

Less than a minute later, my phone buzzes with a message. I quickly open it. The hospital name flashes across the screen expensive, unfamiliar, far from where I am.

My brows pull together.why would anyone take him there?

That kind of place… it’s not for people like us but none of that matters right now.All that matters is him.

I rush back into the restaurant, my heart pounding wildly. Without thinking, I yank off my apron and toss it aside.

“Ava!” Madam Rena’s voice rings out sharply. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I don’t answer.

I can’t.

I’m already out the door.

Outside, I wave frantically until a cab finally stops. I pull the door open and slide in, quickly showing the driver the address.

“Please just get me here as fast as you can.”

The ride feels endless.

Every second drags, stretching painfully as my thoughts spiral. I grip my hands together, my mind racing with fear, dread, and a thousand terrible possibilities I don’t want to face.

After what feels like forever over an hour the car finally slows to a stop.

“We’re here,” the driver says.

I barely wait for the car to fully halt before shoving money into his hand and jumping out.

The hospital towers in front of me, grand and intimidating. The bright lights, the polished exterior… everything about it screams expensive.

Too expensive.i don’t belong here but my father is inside.

That’s all that matters.

I rush through the entrance, nearly bumping into a few people along the way. Some of the staff glance at me, confusion written on their faces as I hurry past them.

I don’t stop until I reach the reception desk.

I force a quick, shaky nod.

“Please… where is my father?” The receptionist blinks, clearly taken aback.

“Calm down, miss. Who are you here to see?”

I take a breath, trying to steady myself.

“My name is Ava. I was called by Doctor Mary. My father was brought here earlier.”

Understanding dawns on her face almost instantly.

“Oh… alright.” Her tone softens when she notices how tense I am. “Let me contact the doctor for you. Don’t worry your father is in good hands. She’s one of our best.”

I nod, managing a faint, grateful smile.

“Thank you…”

She makes the call quickly, murmuring a few words before hanging up.

“You can go to the third floor,” she says. “First room on the left.”

I don’t wait another second.

I rush to the elevator, pressing the button repeatedly as if that would make it move faster. The doors finally slide open, and I step in, my heart pounding harder with every passing second.

Third floor.

The doors open.

I step out.

And then… I stop.

Right in front of the room. My feet refuse to move any closer.

My chest tightens, my breathing uneven again.

Why…

Why am I so scared to open this door?

It’s just one push.

Just one.