Chapter 5

Over the next two or three days, I heard bits and pieces about him from the nurses. He practically camped out in her ward, almost never leaving her side. If she coughed once in the middle of the night, he’d go ask the nurse for hot water; every dose of medicine, he’d test the temperature before handing it to her; worried she’d get bored, he even had people bring over some toys to make her laugh.

I didn’t comment, just pulled the blanket a little higher to cover the bandages on my chest.

Once, while the nurse was wheeling me down the hall for a follow-up exam, I heard a sudden burst of noise. As we passed by the door of the room next door, I turned my head and saw him holding a huge bouquet of roses, confessing to her in all seriousness:

“Amelie, I’ve had a crush on you since eight years ago. All those ‘encounters’ were just excuses for me to get close. I remember everything you like, and I know your dreams too… Back then I never got the chance to say it. Now—would you still be willing to give me a chance?”

The hope and nervousness in his voice brought back a memory from the month before she left for Italy—he’d already been planning this exact confession then. It was only because of one twist after another that it got delayed by a few years.

“I’d love to,” I heard her answer softly.

I smiled faintly and turned back around, letting the nurse wheel me into the exam room. Just as my back was to them, the hallway erupted into thunderous applause.

In the middle of that applause, he seemed to look back. I could feel his gaze fall on me—on my lonely but clear-headed back as I was pushed away. The smile on his face probably faltered for the briefest second, but just for a second. The next moment, that tidal wave of joy swallowed everything whole again.

I watched with my own eyes as he reached out and pulled Amelie into his arms.

That night, I opened a booking app on my phone and checked flights from New York to Spain. The moment the payment confirmation popped up, the door to my ward opened—he walked in, fingers intertwined with Amelie’s.

“Serena, we’ve got good news,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Amelie’s agreed to be with me. We are friends. You’re the first person I’m telling.”

I glanced at their tightly clasped hands and nodded, my tone light. “Congratulations.”

Happiness shimmered in Amelie’s eyes as she smiled shyly. “Thank you for your blessing. I heard from Auntie that you were badly hurt. Are you feeling better now? I made some fish soup. You should have a little.” As she spoke, she nudged him to go ladle some out.

Watching him obey so obediently, I dazed out for a second before snapping back. “Thank you, but I don’t want the soup now.”

His face darkened instantly, displeasure flashing in his eyes. “Amelie made this herself. I was reluctant to share it, you know. She insisted on sending you some because she was worried about your injuries. How are you still being so ungrateful?”

He shoved the hot bowl into my hands, insisting I drink it right away. I opened my mouth to explain, but he grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward him. In the struggle, the bowl tipped, and scalding soup splashed straight onto my wounds.

“Ah—” The burning pain shot right up to the crown of my head. Cold sweat beaded instantly on my forehead, my face turning as white as a sheet.

Amelie jumped in shock, trembling with guilt as she grabbed tissues, trying to help wipe it off. Afraid she’d burn herself, he hurried her behind him and murmured, “This isn’t your fault. She’s always strong and tough. It’s nothing serious. Don’t blame yourself.”