The first thing Hazel heard was the slow beeping of a monitor.
Then the feeling of soft sheets beneath her, and a dull ache spreading through her body — especially her ankle, her shoulder, and her lower back.
Her eyes fluttered open.
White ceiling.
A fan turning slowly above her.
She blinked again. Her lips were dry. Her throat burned.
Then she turned her head — and saw Warren.
He was seated by her bedside, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded, his eyes closed as if he hadn't slept in days. A book lay unopened on his lap. And right next to it — her phone.
As if he'd been waiting.
Watching.
Hazel's chest tightened. A tear rolled down her cheek before she even knew she was crying.
He opened his eyes slowly, as though he could feel her stare.
"Hey," he said softly, standing up and stepping closer. "You're awake."
Hazel tried to speak, but her throat caught. He poured water into a cup and helped her drink gently.
"You fainted," Warren said. "After…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
Hazel looked away, ashamed. "How long?"
"Three days," he replied quietly. "No one could find you. Your friends were losing their minds."
Hazel's lips trembled. "They… they beat me up."
"I know," he said, his voice calm but full of fire. "You don't have to explain. Not now."
Hazel stared at him for a long time.
"Why… why did you come?"
Warren gave her a small, sad smile. "I didn't. I was going for a run. But somehow… something told me to take the back path."
He took a deep breath.
"And I'm glad I did."
Hazel looked at him, truly looked at him.
There was something in Warren's eyes — a kind of steady warmth she wasn't used to. She felt exposed, bruised, and broken. But with him standing there… she didn't feel pitied. She felt seen.
"I was scared," she whispered.
Warren sat back down beside her. "I know."
"I thought I was going to die."
"You didn't." His tone was quiet but firm. "You're here. You fought through it."
Hazel let the silence settle between them. Outside, she could hear faint footsteps in the corridor, the buzz of hospital machines, and someone coughing down the hallway. But inside the room, it was still.
Warren leaned forward, elbows on his knees again.
"I stayed because…" he hesitated. "Because it hurt to think of you going through all that and waking up to no one."
Hazel swallowed hard. "I'm not used to people staying."
"I know that too," he said.
His honesty was like a balm — not dramatic, not rehearsed. Just true.
Hazel shifted a little in bed and winced.
Warren stood immediately. "I'll call the nurse."
"No," she said quickly. "Stay."
He froze, then slowly sat back down. "Okay."
Hazel reached out, weakly. Her fingers brushed his.
And for the first time in a long while, she felt something unfamiliar wash over her — not love, not obsession, not heartbreak.
Hazel kept her hand in his a moment longer than she meant to. It was warm. Steady. Nothing like Devon's — cold, unsure, full of promises that turned into silence.
"You've been here this whole time?" she asked.
Warren gave a small shrug. "Most of it. I went home to shower once. I brought you your charger too… not that they let you touch your phone yet."
Hazel's lips curved faintly, but her eyes were still heavy. "Why do you care so much?"
Warren didn't answer immediately. He leaned back in the chair, resting his arms on the edge of the hospital bed. "Maybe I've seen enough people pretending not to care. I didn't want to be one of them."
Hazel turned her face to the window. Outside, the late afternoon sun bled through the blinds in soft lines of gold.
She remembered Devon's face — the softness that used to be in his eyes. The fake concern. The way he warned her like she was the problem. The way he made her feel small, even when she was reaching for him with everything she had.
She blinked slowly. "I think I was obsessed," she said under her breath.
Warren looked at her. "With him?"
Hazel nodded once. "With the way he made me feel when he looked at me. I thought that meant something."
There was a pause.
"Sometimes," Warren said gently, "we mistake attention for care. And silence for strength."
Hazel's eyes met his again. "And you?"
"What about me?"
"Why are you different?"
Warren didn't smile. He just looked at her the way someone does when they mean every word.
"Because I'm not here for who you used to be with," he said. "I'm here for you."
Hazel didn't reply. She couldn't. The lump in her throat was too heavy, and if she spoke, she might cry again.
So instead, she closed her eyes — not to sleep, but to let herself feel safe… just for a little while.
And for the first time since the alley, since the betrayal, since the beating… Hazel breathed.
A few hours passed. Hazel had drifted in and out of light sleep, her body still exhausted from everything it had endured. The afternoon sunlight had shifted to a deeper orange hue, warming the hospital room in soft tones.
Then came the knock.
Not the kind doctors made. Not cautious or official.
This one was urgent. Familiar. Emotional.
Hazel turned her head weakly toward the door just as it creaked open.
"Hazel?" Matilda's voice broke first — soft but trembling.
The moment Hazel saw her, her eyes filled. Matilda rushed in, followed by Divine and Darcie, their faces pale with worry and relief clashing all at once.
"Oh my God, Hazel!" Divine gasped, making it to her bedside in seconds. "You're awake… You're really awake."
Darcie covered her mouth, trying to hold back a sob. "We thought we lost you…"
Hazel's throat tightened. She couldn't speak. Her voice cracked before any words came out, but her tears said enough.
Matilda sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching for her hand carefully. "We've been searching everywhere for you, Hazel. No one knew where you went… You just disappeared. We thought something terrible—"
"—something terrible did happen," Divine cut in gently, her voice trembling with anger. "They beat you up. Like actual cowards."
Hazel gave a small nod, eyes still glossy. "I tried to come back… but I passed out."
Darcie glanced at the IV drip and the bandage on Hazel's temple. "I swear if I ever see Blair or any of those girls again—"
"They're not worth it," Hazel whispered.
"They hurt you, Hazel," Matilda said, brushing hair away from her friend's face. "That's not drama. That's evil."
There was a beat of silence. Then Divine leaned in, her tone softening. "Warren's been here almost every day, you know."
Hazel glanced away, embarrassed. "He found me."
"Thank God he did," Matilda whispered. "If not…"
The thought hung in the air.
They didn't say it.
They didn't have to.
Hazel looked at each of them — their eyes red, their expressions fierce and soft all at once — and for the first time since everything shattered, she felt like maybe she wasn't alone after all.
"I'm glad you came," she said hoarsely.
"We're not going anywhere," Divine replied, squeezing her hand. "You're our girl."
And in that moment, surrounded by love and loyalty, Hazel finally let herself cry — not from pain, but from the safety of knowing someone still cared.