Malissa hurried through the hospital corridors, her bag clutched tightly against her chest as she moved past nurses, patients, and visitors. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh white glow over the pale walls and polished floors. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and medicine, a smell she had come to associate with fear and long nights without sleep.
She had not slept properly in days. Her head throbbed, her eyes burned, and her body felt heavy, but she forced herself to keep walking. Every visit to the hospital felt heavier than the last. Every conversation with the doctors felt more urgent. Every bill felt like a countdown she could not stop.
She pushed open the door to her mother's ward quietly.
The sight made her heart tighten painfully.
Her mother lay weakly against the pillows, her breathing shallow and slow. Her skin looked paler than before, and the hospital blanket looked too large around her thin body. The machines beside the bed beeped softly, steady but fragile, like a reminder that everything could change at any moment.
Malissa forced a smile and walked to the bedside, brushing a few strands of hair away from her mother's forehead.
"Mom," she said softly. "I'm here."
Her mother opened her eyes slowly and smiled faintly. "You shouldn't tire yourself out, Malissa. You look thinner every time I see you."
Malissa shook her head quickly. "I'm fine. Work is just busy."
Her mother looked at her for a long moment, as if she knew the truth but chose not to say it.
"I'll be fine," her mother whispered. "You don't have to worry so much."
Malissa nodded, but her chest felt tight. She turned slightly so her mother would not see the fear in her eyes.
A few minutes later, the doctor entered the ward holding a clipboard. His expression was serious, and Malissa immediately felt nervous.
"Miss Fisher," he said gently. "We need to talk."
Malissa stood up quickly. "Is something wrong?"
The doctor looked at the chart before speaking. "Your mother's condition has worsened slightly. The current treatment is no longer enough. We need to adjust her medication and continue treatment immediately to prevent further complications."
He handed her a new list of medicines and treatment costs.
Malissa looked down at the paper and felt her heart drop. The numbers written beside the medicine names were higher than before. Much higher.
"I'll pay soon," she said quickly, her voice trembling slightly. "Please don't stop her treatment. I'm working on it. I'll find the money."
The doctor sighed softly. "I understand your situation, but the hospital cannot continue treatment without payment authorization. The deposit must be cleared first."
Malissa's fingers tightened around the paper. "Please. Just give me a few more days."
"I will try to delay it as much as possible," the doctor said quietly. "But you need to speak with the finance department immediately."
Malissa nodded and thanked him before leaving the ward, her steps quick and unsteady as she walked toward the finance office.
The finance office was on the ground floor. A small waiting area with plastic chairs and a counter separated patients from the staff behind computers. Malissa joined the short line and waited impatiently, her hands cold and her mind racing.
When it was her turn, she stepped forward and slid her bank card across the counter.
"I need to pay the deposit for my mother's treatment," she said. "Please process it."
The clerk took the card and typed into the computer. After a moment, he frowned slightly.
"Authorization pending," he said.
Malissa blinked. "What do you mean pending? I have the money in my account."
The clerk shrugged slightly. "The system is not approving the payment. It says authorization pending. You may need to wait."
"I can't wait," Malissa said quickly, her voice rising slightly. "My mother needs treatment now. Please try again."
The clerk tried again, typing slowly, then shook his head. "It's still not going through."
Malissa felt panic rising in her chest. "Please, there must be something you can do."
"I'm sorry," the clerk said. "Until the authorization clears, we cannot process the payment."
Malissa stood there for a moment, unable to move, unable to think. She had the money. Sold her belongings. Worked extra shifts. Skipped meals. Done everything she could.
Why was the payment not going through?
She tried again with another card. The same result.
Authorization pending.
Payment rejected.
She begged the clerk to try again, but nothing changed. Eventually, the clerk apologized again and told her to come back later.
Malissa walked back to the ward slowly, her legs feeling weak. Her mind felt empty and loud at the same time.
Back in the ward, her mother looked at her with tired eyes.
"Did you talk to the doctor?" her mother asked.
Malissa forced a smile and nodded. "Yes. Everything is fine. They just want to adjust your medication."
Her mother looked relieved. "That's good."
Malissa sat beside the bed and held her mother's hand gently.
"Malissa," her mother said softly, "if it's too much, let it go. You don't have to carry everything alone."
Malissa shook her head immediately. "Don't say that. You're not a burden. You're my mother. I'll do anything for you."
Her mother smiled weakly and closed her eyes again.
Malissa sat there for a long time, watching her mother sleep, listening to the quiet beeping of the machines. Her chest felt tight, and her eyes burned, but she refused to cry in the room.
Instead, she stood up quietly and walked to the hospital bathroom.
Once the door closed behind her, she leaned against the sink and covered her mouth, trying to stop the sob that escaped her throat. Tears fell silently as she tried to breathe.
She washed her face with cold water and looked at herself in the mirror.
"You can't break," she whispered to her reflection. "Not now."
That night, she stayed at the hospital, sleeping in a plastic chair beside her mother's bed. She ate from the vending machine and drank cheap coffee to stay awake. Every time her mother moved or coughed, she woke up immediately.
The next morning, she went back to the finance office again.
The answer was the same.
Authorization pending.
She did not understand. She had the money. She had done everything right. Why was nothing working?
Later that afternoon, as she sat outside the ward, a nurse approached her quietly. The nurse looked around first before sitting beside her.
"Miss Fisher," the nurse said softly, "I need to tell you something, but you didn't hear it from me."
Malissa frowned slightly. "What is it?"
The nurse lowered her voice. "Sometimes… people with influence don't need money to stop something."
Malissa stared at her. "What do you mean?"
The nurse hesitated. "Sometimes accounts get flagged. Sometimes people with influence can interfere with things."
Malissa's heart began to beat faster. "Are you saying someone is blocking my payment?"
The nurse quickly shook her head. "I didn't say that. I am just saying that sometimes these things are not just about money."
Malissa leaned forward slightly. "Please. If you know something, tell me."
The nurse looked uncomfortable. "I cannot say more. Just be careful… someone might already be watching you."
She stood up quickly and walked away before Malissa could ask another question.
Malissa sat there frozen, her mind spinning.
Someone was blocking her payment.
Someone was interfering.
But who?
She thought about the bank. The hospital. The lawyers. The loan office. Every place she had gone to had rejected her. Every door had closed.
It suddenly did not feel like bad luck anymore.
It felt planned.
That evening, Malissa walked out of the hospital slowly, the night air cool against her face. The city lights glowed in the distance, cars moved along the road, and people walked past her, living their normal lives.
But her world felt like it was collapsing.
She stopped on the sidewalk and looked back at the hospital building.
Fear, confusion, anger, and suspicion twisted together inside her chest.
Someone was doing this to her.
This was not just a money problem anymore.
This was a power.
And for the first time... Malissa realized something terrifying.
Someone was doing this to her.
And whoever it was, they were watching her struggle.