My Romance Life System
Chapter 82: Test

Chapter 82: Test

It was the weekend, which for the old Kofi would have meant a glorious, uninterrupted stretch of video games and instant noodles. The new Kofi, however, found himself walking toward the hospital.

’Just a quick visit. See how she’s doing.’

He arrived at the main reception, the familiar smell of antiseptic cleaner greeting him. As he was giving Thea’s name to the nurse at the front desk, a familiar figure approached. It was the doctor from before, the one with the tired eyes and cynical attitude. Today, though, the cynicism was gone, replaced by a look that was just plain sad.

"Son, can I have a word with you?"

Kofi nodded, and the doctor led him away from the bustling reception area and down a quiet hall to his office. The office was neat, organized. The doctor gestured for him to sit in the chair opposite his desk.

"I’m glad you came," the doctor began, sinking into his own chair with a heavy sigh. "I’ve been trying to get in touch with Thea’s family."

He picked up a file from his desk, though he didn’t open it. He didn’t need to.

"Thea gave us a number. For her aunt, her legal guardian. I called it this morning."

The doctor leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, and the professional distance he usually maintained was just gone.

"The woman who answered... she was not happy to hear from me. I explained that her niece was in the hospital, that she was found unconscious, suffering from severe malnutrition and a host of other issues."

He paused, looking Kofi straight in the eye.

"Do you know what she said to me?"

Kofi shook his head, a knot forming in his stomach.

"She said, ’And what do you want me to do about it? I send her money. Isn’t that enough?’" The doctor’s voice was low, laced with a disbelief that hadn’t faded.

"I tried to explain the severity of the situation, that Thea needed care, that she couldn’t just be sent back to that house alone. I mentioned the neglect, the state we found her in."

The doctor let out a short, humorless laugh.

"She told me Thea was a ’problem child’. That she was ’dramatic’ and ’looking for attention’. She said, ’That girl has been nothing but a black cloud since her parents died and she was dumped on my doorstep. I’m not her mother.’"

The words hung in the air.

"Then she told me not to call again unless the girl was dead, because a funeral would be cheaper than the hospital bill."

The doctor finally looked down at the file on his desk, his shoulders slumping.

"And then she hung up."

Kofi just stared. He didn’t know what to say. His own problems, his own life, felt so ridiculously small all of a sudden.

"So... what happens now?"

The doctor leaned back in his chair. "Now? Now I do my job. I make a report to Child Protective Services." He said it with all the enthusiasm of someone filling out their tax forms. "I’ll detail the malnutrition, the neglect, the aunt’s... lack of cooperation. They’ll open a case."

’So that’s it? She just gets thrown into the system?’

"And then what?"

"And then we wait." The doctor spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "CPS is overworked and underfunded. A case like this, where the guardian is technically providing a roof and some money, it’s not a priority. They’ll investigate, it’ll take weeks, maybe months. They’ll have interviews, file reports... it’s a process."

(Which, if you know anything about government agencies, is like throwing a message in a bottle into the ocean and hoping a whale delivers it.)

Kofi felt his hands clench into fists in his lap. "So she just... stays here? In the hospital?"

The doctor looked at him like he’d just asked if the hospital served a five-course dinner.

"Stay here? Son, this is a hospital, not a hotel. We’re already over capacity. We have people with actual, immediate life-threatening emergencies waiting for beds. She’s stable. Medically, she’s on the road to recovery."

The doctor leaned forward again, and all the sympathy was gone, replaced by the cold, hard reality of his job.

"And then there’s the issue of the bill. Her aunt made it very clear she’s not paying a dime. We’re a private hospital. We can’t just provide indefinite free care. It’s not how the world works."

And that was it. That was the line. All the frustration, all the helplessness, all the anger at the teachers, at the aunt, at the whole damn world just boiled over.

Kofi shot up from his chair.

"So you’re just going to kick her out? What is wrong with you? She has nowhere to go! Did you not hear anything I said to you yesterday? Did you not see the report you just read to me?"

His voice was way too loud, cracking with a rage he couldn’t control.

The doctor didn’t even flinch. He just looked at him, his expression tired, patient. He’d seen this before. He’d seen families yell, cry, and break down in this very office a thousand times. Kofi was just another drop in an ocean of tragedy.

And seeing that look on the doctor’s face, the complete lack of surprise, it was like a bucket of ice water.

’What am I doing?’

His anger deflated in an instant, leaving him feeling small and stupid. He was yelling at the one guy who had actually helped, the guy who pumped her stomach and diagnosed her with scurvy. He wasn’t the enemy. He was just the guy stuck delivering the bad news.

He sank back into his chair, the fight completely gone. He put his head in his hands.

"I’m sorry," he mumbled into his palms. "I... I’m sorry. That was childish. It wasn’t fair to you."

He looked up, and his eyes were full of a miserable, helpless apology.

"You’re just doing your job. I get it. I’m just... pissed off."

The doctor just sighed, a sound that carried the weight of a thousand similar conversations. He leaned back, the leather of his chair creaking.

"It’s alright, son. I get it. This whole situation is a mess."

He looked at Kofi, really looked at him this time, like he was seeing him for the first time.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen," he said, his voice quiet again.

’Sixteen.’ The doctor mulled that over. He looked more like a kid than a sixteen-year-old. Too thin, too tired. But the way he carried himself...

"You live with your parents?" the doctor asked, his tone shifting from professional to just... conversational.

"They work overseas. I live alone."

That seemed to catch the doctor off guard. He raised an eyebrow.

"So, you live alone. How does that even work?"

"It’s not a big deal. My parents send money. The apartment’s paid for."

"And who handles the bills? The utilities?"

"They’re all on auto-pay."

The doctor nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Kofi’s face. He was sizing him up, and not in a medical way.

"You cook for yourself?"

And this is where things get interesting, because a week ago, the answer would’ve been a hard ’no’.

"I’m learning," he said, and for some reason, that felt like the most honest thing he’d said all day. "Made stir-fry last night."

The doctor’s eyebrow went up just a little. A flicker of surprise.

"And your parents, they’re okay with this? You, living alone at sixteen?"

"They trust me."

It was a simple answer, but it was true. They did. They had no idea he’d died, or that he was now the reluctant commander of a high school romance mission, but they trusted him to not burn the apartment down.

The doctor was quiet for a long time. He looked at the file on his desk, then back at Kofi. This was the real test now.

"Last question, and I want an honest answer. Why do you care so much about this girl? You barely know her."

Kofi didn’t have to think about it. The answer was sitting right there in his chest, a heavy, solid weight.

"Because no one else does."

And that was it. That was the magic word.

The doctor just looked at him, and for the first time, the tired, cynical expression was completely gone. In its place was something else. Something that looked a lot like respect.

He sighed, a long, heavy sound that seemed to carry the weight of the entire hospital.

"Okay, here’s the situation," he said, leaning forward and putting his hands flat on the desk. "I can’t keep her here. We don’t have the beds, and more importantly, we don’t have the funding. Her aunt has made it clear she’s not paying. CPS will get involved, but that will take weeks, maybe months. In the meantime, Thea has nowhere to go but back to that house."

He let the words hang in the air for a bit before continuing.

"So, I’m going to do something that is probably against a dozen hospital regulations and could very well get me fired."

He looked Kofi dead in the eye.

"I can release her into your care."

Kofi’s brain just... stopped.