The hospital room carried the sterile tang of disinfectant mixed with the faint lavender scent from Clara's hand cream, the one she used to massage her father's weakened hands.
Clara sat beside her father's bed, her fingers loosely laced with his, their silence a comfortable one. The IV machine clicked rhythmically beside them, the slow drip of the chemotherapy echoing like a steady promise that he's still here. He's still fighting.
It hadn't been easy convincing him to begin treatment. Mr Harper had always been strong, proud, rarely willing to show weakness, but after seeing the way Clara lit up around Liam, after watching how she had begun to truly live again, he'd finally agreed.
"I'm not doing this for me," he'd said when they scheduled the first session. "I'm doing it for you."
And he meant it.
Clara looked down at his hand now—thinner than it used to be, the skin more fragile—and swallowed the lump in her throat. Her father had always been her rock. Seeing him like this made everything inside her ache.
But it wasn't like before.
This time, she was here. This time, she knew what might come. And this time… she would not let history repeat itself.
"Dad," she said softly, breaking the silence. "You're doing so well. I'm proud of you."
Her father chuckled faintly, his voice hoarse but warm. "You make it sound like I just passed a math test."
Clara smiled, blinking fast. "Well, I know how much you hate hospitals."
"I hate how they make you look so tired," he replied, turning his head to glance at her. "You've been here every day. I know you've been skipping your classes."
"I don't care about classes," she said quickly. "Not when it comes to you."
Mr Harper was quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting toward the window. "You remind me so much of your mother when you speak like that. Stubborn. Soft-spoken, but fierce when it counts."
Clara laughed through a tight throat. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"It is." He turned his eyes back to her. "And I see the way Liam looks at you, Clara. I see the way he doesn't leave your side, how he makes you laugh even in a place like this."
Almost on cue, the door opened gently, and Liam stepped in, holding two cups of warm barley tea. He greeted Mr. Harper with a polite nod and handed Clara her drink before taking the seat on her other side. His hand instinctively rested at the small of her back, grounding her.
"Did I miss the emotional part?" he teased gently, trying to lighten the mood.
Mr Harper smiled. "Just in time. I was about to tell Clara how lucky I am."
"You are," Liam said with a grin, earning a soft elbow from Clara.
Mr Harper reached out, his hand covering Clara's. "I may not have much time left… but the time I do have, I want to spend watching you build a life. A happy life. Don't look at me like that," he added when Clara's eyes welled up. "I'm not giving up. I'm just… finally letting go of the things that don't matter. What matters is you. And knowing you're safe."
Clara leaned in, resting her forehead against the back of his hand. "You will be safe too," she whispered. "I won't let anything happen to you. Not like before."
He blinked at her, confused. "Before?"
Clara froze for a breath, then shook her head gently. "Nothing. Just a promise I'm making to myself."
Liam watched her closely, his hand sliding into hers. He didn't ask questions—but the look he gave her said everything.
He's with her now and that's all matter.
One day, Clara sat beside her father's bed, carefully spooning lukewarm broth to his lips. His complexion had improved slightly since the start of his treatment, some color had returned to his cheeks, and though he tired quickly, he spoke with more ease.
Clara smiled gently, wiping a drop from the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "You're getting stronger," she said, her voice light, hopeful. "See? Told you the soup was magic."
Her father chuckled weakly. "If by magic you mean bland, then yes."
She laughed softly, grateful for even this small slice of normalcy. But the comfort shattered in an instant when the door creaked open.
The voice was unmistakable.
"Well, I could see that Mr Harper is recovering well"
Clara's blood ran cold.
She turned slowly, spoon halfway to the bowl, her entire body stiffening the moment her gaze locked on the man standing in the doorway.
Alex.
Clara's hand trembled as she set the bowl aside. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out every sound but his footsteps as he moved closer. For a moment, she couldn't breathe—because suddenly, she wasn't in the hospital anymore. She was back in that house, back in the moment she found her father's tampered medication, the moment it all collapsed.
Back in the life where she was too late to save him.
"You don't have come all the way here," she said quietly, rising to her feet, keeping her body between Alex and her father. Her voice was calm, but her eyes blazed with controlled fury.
Alex raised an eyebrow. "Clara, I am just worry about Mr Harper and I came to check on Mr. Harper." Her hands curled into fists.
Mr Harper, still weak, gave Alex a polite nod. "Mr. Grant. I didn't expect you."
Clara didn't take her eyes off Alex, every muscle in her body tight, tense. Her pulse raced like a warning bell. She didn't believe for a second that this visit was innocent.
She was about to speak when the door opened again—and this time, relief surged through her so fast it nearly brought tears to her eyes.
"Clara."
Liam.
He strode in, his posture calm but alert, immediately picking up on the tension in the room. His eyes flicked to Alex, narrowing slightly, then to Clara, whose entire frame was trembling beneath her controlled facade.
In two strides, Liam was beside her. He placed a gentle hand on the small of her back with reassurance and turned to Alex with a cool, practiced smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"I wasn't aware visitors needed appointments now," Alex said.
"Or that people with no connection to the family were dropping by uninvited." Liam added on.
Alex smiled tightly. "I'm simply a friend, showing concern."
"I think your concern is no longer needed," Liam replied, voice steely. "Clara and her father are in good hands. And I'd hate for hospital security to misunderstand your presence."
For a moment, the two men locked eyes with tension crackling in the quiet room. But Alex gave a small chuckle and raised his hands in mock surrender.
"Don't be alarmed," he said smoothly. "Just wanted to check in." He turned to Clara with a final, unreadable smile. "You've done well for yourself. Let's hope it lasts."
Then he walked out, leaving behind a silence that roared.
Clara sagged slightly against Liam the moment the door clicked shut. He caught her instantly, wrapping both arms around her protectively, pulling her to his chest.
"It's okay," he murmured into her hair. "He's gone."