The Indifferent Ex-Husband Heartstrings in the Mall of Fate

Kent didn't dare make another peep.

He had no clue what the tiff between the two was about, and was totally in the dark about Daniel landing in the hospital because of

a brain hemorrhage due to Brandon. All he knew was that Daniel was hospitalized, and that was that.

Brandon didn't add any more to the story either. He headed back to his office and had barely plopped down at his desk when

Yvonne's call buzzed in.

The second Brandon picked up, Yvonne's voice, thick with tears, hit him, “Brandon, Dad's had another bleed in his brain. He's back

in surgery now.”

“I got it,” Brandon said cool as a cucumber, ended the call, and made a beeline for the door.

Kent had just settled into his seat when he saw Brandon, face all tight, storm out of the office, so he quickly got back on his feet,

instinctively ready to follow suit.

“No need to tag along.” Brandon stopped him, “Take care of Theresa when she gets back.”

“Got it.”

Brandon headed directly to the hospital and found himself back in the all-too-familiar waiting goutside the OR.

Patricia was a hot mess, crying her eyes out. When she saw Brandon, she couldn't hold back her emotions and laid into him,

blaming him for setting Daniel off that morning.

Brandon gave her an icy stare, and Patricia's outburst quickly shrank back into silence.

Yvonne shot Brandon a worried look. He looked like he was about to blow a gasket, and it wasn't clear if it was because of Daniel's

condition or Patricia's tantrum.

“Brandon?” Yvonne called out to him, concern lacing her voice.

“What did the doctor say?” Brandon asked, turning to her.

Yvonne shook her head, “Nothing much, just that they needed to rush him into surgery.”

Brandon nodded, not saying another word. But his face was still a picture of misery, miserable like never before.

Yvonne didn't dare disturb him.

Thankfully, Daniel's surgery didn't take too long this taround. The bleeding was still under control, and they didn't need to

crack his skull open again; just a simple ventricular puncture.

But his condition was anything but stable.

As he was wheeled out of the OR, the doctor emphasized over and over again how critical it was not to agitate the patient.

“Okay, thank you, doctor.”

Brandon whispered his thanks to the doctor, watched as Daniel was wheeled away, but didn't follow.

He just sat down on the bench by the OR, his face a blank slate. No telling how long he sat there when suddenly someone took the

seat next to him.

“Brandon,” Yvonne's voice of concern broke through.

“Yeah,” Brandon grunted, a light response, not even glancing her way.

“You shouldn't beat yourself up over this.” Yvonne said softly, “Dad's incident was caused by a lot of factors.”

“I'm not.” Brandon cut her off, “He reaped what he sowed.”

Brandon stood up, “I'll leave this with you. Callif anything comes up.”

With that, Brandon was gone. He didn't go back to the company, nor did he head home.

He wasn't in the right state to face Sophia and Theresa. There was a fire in his chest, mixed with worry, regret, and a feeling of

helplessness, with nowhere to vent.

Brandon wondered what in the world he had done in his past life to have committed such a heinous act that he was now obliged to

be Daniel's son, paying off skarmic debt.

It was as if they didn't even have a chance for a normal conversation.

The one at fault was Daniel, and before Brandon could even confront him, Daniel had taken another trip to the brink of death.

Brandon drove aimlessly, his car windows wide open, letting the fierce wind blast through, tousling his hair.

That evening, Brandon didn't go home. He just texted Sophia to have dinner with Theresa first, saying he had ssocial

obligation and would probably be late.

Sophia texted back a simple “Okay”.

Brandon went to Don's place. As soon as he walked in, he made a beeline for the liquor cabinet, and grabbed a bottle and a glass.

“What's up?” Don approached with concern, “Why the sudden need for a drink?”

He remembered the last tBrandon drank was because of Sophia, but weren't he and Sophia shacked up now?

“It's nothing.”

Brandon's reply was a terse and steady pair of words, but his actions spoke volumes as he uncorked the bottle, poured himself a

full glass, and knocked it back in one go.

Then ca second glass.

“Alright, alright, that's enough.” Don stepped in after two glasses, “Your dad's still in the hospital. If something happens in the

middle of the night and they need you, you can't be sloshed.”

“Don't talk toabout him!”

After snapping, Brandon poured himself another glass and downed it again in one gulp.

Once finished, he slammed the glass down so hard on the marble bar top that the delicate stem snapped clean in two.

He looked at Brandon and asked, “What the hell happened?”

Brandon was silent for a moment, “He had another bleed and is back in emergency care.”

“And how is he now?” He asked, worried.

“It's not looking good. Whether he makes it or not, that's up to fate now,” Brandon said, reached for the bottle again as if to pour

another glass, but then he glanced at the broken glass, tossed it aside, took the bottle, and gulped it down straight from the neck,

then tossed the bottle away, slumped against the couch, and just sat down on the floor.

Don joined him on the floor in front of the couch, not quite sure how to comfort him, just silently patting his shoulder.

“Sometimes | think it would be better if he just died. Get it over with.” Brandon finally spoke, his voice raspy, “But all the years of

my upbringing and my conscience tellthat I'm the reason he's in there. His current state has something to do with me. He's my

biological father, and if something happens to him, it's like I've killed him.”

“Don't worry; it'll be alright. Your dad's tough as nails,” Don patted his shoulder, trying to comfort him. But he knew his words were

hollow.

If something really happened to Brandon's dad, he was afraid Brandon wouldn't be able to live with himself.

Brandon didn't speak again, just grabbed another bottle of booze and started sipping it listlessly.

Don didn't stop him.

The little Ragdoll cat watched with wide, curious eyes from the side.

Living alone got boring, so Don got the Ragdoll for company, amusing himself with it when he had the time.

To keep an eye on his cat's eating habits, he had even gone to the trouble of installing a surveillance camera in the living room.

But with another living, breathing human on his hands right now, he didn't have the bandwidth to babysit the cat. He shooed the

feline away with a wave of his hand and turned his attention to Brandon.

Maybe it was because Brandon had been drinking on an empty stomach, but after knocking back more than half the bottle, he was

looking a little worse for wear.

He set the bottle down and got up to hit the restroom. Before long, the sound of violent retching echoed from the bathroom.

Don rushed to check on him, "You good?"

Brandon nodded. "I'm fine," he croaked, turning on the faucet and cupping water to rinse his mouth.

"I'm gonna lie down for a bit," Brandon said, and before Don knew it, he was out the door and into the guest bedroom.

Don, worried, followed, "You sure you don't wanna hit up the hospital?"

"No need," with that, Brandon closed the door behind him.

But Don couldn't shake his concern. He paced back and forth anxiously outside the door, fretting over what might happen to

Brandon but reluctant to barge in, not wanting to seem like a worrywart.

Just then, Brandon's phone started buzzing on the coffee table. Don went over to check it out; it was Sophia calling.

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