That morning, one week before the procedure recommended by her doctor, Nara forced herself to go to work as usual, even though her body felt far weaker than it had in the days before.
She sat at her desk, trying to focus on the report she needed to finish, but her head felt heavy and her vision blurred from time to time. She drew a deep breath, drank some water, and tried to convince herself that this was only ordinary fatigue—something that would go away after a good night's sleep, not anything more serious than that.
"Na, you're coming to the ten o'clock meeting, right?" a coworker from the next cubicle asked.
"Yeah, I'm coming," Nara replied, her voice sounding a little weak despite her efforts to make it sound normal.
At ten, the division meeting went on as usual. Nara sat in her chair, trying to follow the client's presentation carefully, but her concentration kept breaking as pain began radiating into her lower back, more intense and lasting longer than anything she'd felt before.
In the middle of the meeting, cold sweat began dampening her forehead. She gripped the edge of the table, struggling to keep her expression calm even as she felt something different inside—something more alarming than the aches she'd experienced before, as though her body were sending a warning she could no longer simply ignore.
Rifana, sitting a few seats away, noticed the change in Nara's expression. "Na, you okay?" she whispered, trying not to disrupt the meeting.
"I'm okay," Nara whispered back, though her voice was barely audible. "I just need some air."
Nara asked for permission to step out for a moment and walked toward the restroom, her steps beginning to falter. Inside a stall, she leaned against the wall, breathing hard as the pain in her lower back felt like it was stabbing all the way to the bone.
She covered her mouth with one hand, holding back a sound that nearly escaped her before she realized it. Her eyes squeezed shut until the pain gradually eased a few moments later.
Just hold on a little longer, she told herself, repeating the mantra she'd said hundreds of times. Just one more week until the procedure. You can do this.
She splashed cold water on her face and stared at herself in the mirror—her face deathly pale, looking anything but fine. Still, she forced herself to smile, gathering the last of her strength to return to the meeting room and convince everyone that she could still be relied on as usual, just as they'd always known her to be.
Throughout the rest of the day, Nara struggled to finish her work, even as her body became increasingly impossible to negotiate with. She turned down her coworkers' invitation to lunch, choosing to remain at her desk with the excuse that she had too much work, when in truth she simply couldn't pretend in front of so many people anymore.
Toward evening, Rifana came over again, carrying a glass of warm tea. "Here, drink this first. You've looked really unwell all day."
"Thanks, Rif." Nara accepted the glass with slightly trembling hands. "I'm really okay, just tired."
Rifana stared at Nara for a long moment, not entirely convinced, but chose not to press her any further. "Okay. But if you start feeling worse, tell me, all right? Don't push yourself. It hurts seeing you like this every day."
Nara nodded and gave her a faint smile. But as soon as Rifana returned to her desk, the smile slowly faded, replaced by an exhausted expression she could no longer completely hide.
She reached for her phone and saw a message notification from Arka that had arrived a few minutes earlier.
Arka: Na, how was your day? I'll stop by tonight and bring some food, okay? Then you won't have to cook.
Nara stared at the message for a long time, her fingers typing a cheerful-sounding reply even though she was anything but fine inside.
Nara: I'd love that, thanks, honey. It was just a normal day, busy as usual. Hehe.
She sent the message, then set her phone on the desk and stared at her computer screen, which still displayed the unfinished report.
The pain in her lower back returned, this time accompanied by nausea that made her stomach increasingly uncomfortable. She reached for her water bottle and took several gulps, hoping they would be enough to help her hold on until it was time to go home.
She glanced at the clock on her computer screen—there were still three hours left before she could leave. She let out a long breath, trying to gather what little strength she had left, unaware that her body was already at a limit she could no longer endure for much longer—and that by tomorrow, it might already be too late to keep holding on alone.
To be continued in Chapter 9