POV: Zayden
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The hospital room was cold, too quiet.
I hadn't left her side all night.
The machines beeped steadily beside her, but her face was pale. Still.
I sat at the edge of the chair, her hand in mine. It was soft. Warm. Too warm from the fever.
"Please, Elena," I whispered. "Wake up. Yell at me. Hate me. Do anything. Just—don't go silent on me."
The door opened. A doctor stepped in, clipboard in hand and that same damn serious look he wore hours ago.
"She's stable, Mr. Wolfe," he said. "But I need you to listen carefully."
I stood immediately.
"If she goes through another episode like this—emotionally or physically—there's a high chance her body won't handle it. She could go into a coma."
His words pierced me like knives.
"No," I whispered. "She's strong. She's not—"
"She's been under prolonged emotional stress. The fainting, the fatigue, the excessive alcohol—it's all connected. Her system is shutting down to protect itself."
I clenched my fists.
"Keep her away from stress," he added firmly. "And definitely keep her away from alcohol. If you care about her, Mr. Wolfe… take responsibility."
He left before I could respond.
I turned back to Elena. Sat down again. My chest ached.
I brushed her hair from her face, my fingers lingering along her cheek. "I never wanted this," I whispered. "I just wanted to be near you. But I keep hurting you, don't I?"
Her eyelashes fluttered.
I held my breath.
"Zayden?" she mumbled.
"Elena," I breathed, standing. "I'm here. I'm right here."
Her gaze was hazy, confused. "Where…?"
"You fainted," I said softly, brushing her wrist with my thumb. "You scared the hell out of me."
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"I'm so tired," she said weakly. "I can't keep doing this."
"Then don't," I said quickly. "Let me take care of you."
"I don't want you to pity me."
"I don't." I leaned in, voice trembling. "This isn't pity. This is me being terrified of losing the only woman I've ever felt anything real for."
She looked away, lips trembling.
"I don't forgive you," she whispered.
"I wouldn't forgive me either," I replied.
A long silence stretched between us. Then, finally—
"…Where are we going?" she asked.
I blinked. "What?"
"You said you'd take me away," she said quietly. "Somewhere safe."
Relief nearly made me fall to my knees.
"I have a place," I said. "A lake house. Quiet. No press. No expectations. Just you and me. Healing."
She looked down at our joined hands.
"I'll pack light," she whispered.
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Two Days Later — The Lake House
POV: Elena
The house was beautiful—glass walls, tall pines outside, and the soft ripple of the lake beyond the porch.
It smelled like cedar and something warm. Like home.
Zayden hadn't left my side.
He brought me tea every morning, made awkward scrambled eggs that tasted like cardboard, and held me like I was something precious.
Tonight, we sat beside the fireplace, me curled up in a blanket and him nursing a glass of water.
He hadn't touched a drop of alcohol since that night.
Neither had I.
"You're quiet," I said.
"I'm scared," he said honestly. "Every second you close your eyes, I think I'll lose you again."
I looked into his eyes.
They weren't the cold CEO eyes from the office.
They were the eyes of a man slowly falling apart—and clinging to me like I was the only thing keeping him together.
I leaned my head on his shoulder.
"I don't know if I trust you again," I whispered.
"I know," he murmured. "But I'll wait until you do."
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