Chapter Five – New Beginnings
Adrian wasn't expecting her.
He had convinced himself that the little lady with the stubborn chin and warm eyes would vanish after that night, like a dream that faded with the morning light. But when the door creaked open two days later and Elena stepped inside with a paper bag clutched in her hands, his heart startled in his chest.
"You came back," he said quietly.
She raised an eyebrow. "Of course I did. Did you think I'd leave you to hospital porridge forever?"
His lips curved faintly, that soft almost-smile that had begun to undo her more than she liked. "I wasn't sure."
"Well," she set the bag on his lap, "next time, don't doubt me."
Inside the bag was warm bread, golden and fragrant. Adrian stared at it for a moment like it was treasure, then looked back at her. "You baked this?"
"Every morning." She shrugged as if it wasn't impressive, though her fingers still smelled faintly of flour. "Try it."
He tore a piece off awkwardly, still clumsy with his hands, and tasted it. His eyes closed, a low sound escaping his throat. "Better than anything they've given mel here."
The way he said it—simple, sincere—made her chest feel strange.
---
That first surprise visit turned into a pattern.
She came again the next day, and the day after. At first she told herself it was out of pity, that no one else visited him and the nurses were overworked. But soon, pity wasn't the reason anymore.
Adrian began to wait for her.
Every time she walked in, his face lit up in a way that startled her. He wasn't flashy with it—no grand gestures, no words dripping in charm—but the warmth in his storm-grey eyes was enough.
She brought him small things: muffins, books, once even a small potted plant for his window. He received them as if each was a priceless gift. And in return, he gave her something she hadn't expected—gentleness.
When she helped him sit up, he always murmured a soft thank you. When she handed him water, he sipped carefully, never demanding. Once, when she sneezed unexpectedly, he reached for a tissue with clumsy hands and pressed it into hers like it was the most important task in the world.
And slowly, she realized—this man, whoever he was before the accident, wasn't cruel. He wasn't arrogant. He was… kind.
---
Two weeks slipped by.
On the morning of his discharge, Elena found herself lingering by the bakery's ovens longer than usual, her hands dusted with flour as her mind circled the same thought. What would happen to him now?
When she arrived at the hospital, Adrian was already dressed in simple clothes the staff had provided, sitting at the edge of the bed like he didn't quite know how to move forward. A bag with a few belongings rested by his feet.
His eyes found her instantly. Relief softened his features. "You came."
"Of course," she said lightly, though her throat felt tight. "Big day."
He glanced at the floor. "They said I'm ready. But… I don't know where to go."
Her heart twisted. She'd suspected as much. He had no memory, no family here, no plan.
For a long moment, silence stretched between them. Then the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.
"You could… stay with me."
Adrian's head snapped up, eyes widening.
"I mean—just for now," she hurried on, cheeks heating. "Until your memory comes back. I have a spare room. And the hospital can't exactly just throw you out on the street."
He studied her, quiet, as if weighing the offer carefully.
But Elena wasn't done. "There are conditions," she added, her tone firm. "You'll need to work. If you can't find a job right away, you can help at the bakery. There's always dough to knead, shelves to stock. No freeloading."
For a second, something flickered across his face—surprise, then something else. Almost amusement. Almost… gratitude.
"You'd trust me enough to let me live with you?" he asked softly.
Elena bit her lip. "Trust might be a strong word. Let's call it… giving you a chance."
His lips curved into that rare, soft smile. "Then I'll take it."
The simplicity of his acceptance startled her more than anything. No pride, no protest—just quiet sincerity.
She exhaled, realizing only then how tightly she'd been holding her breath. "Alright then. New beginning."
Adrian leaned back slightly, his eyes still on her. "With you?"
The question wasn't teasing. It was hopeful. And against her better judgment, she nodded.
"Yes," she whispered. "With me."
" But, first we need to know what to address you as "
" A name ? " he asked
" Yes, let's call you Adrian, you look like an Adrian, it suits you "
" thank you "
---
That night, as she lay awake in her small apartment, staring at the ceiling, Elena wondered if she'd lost her mind. Inviting a stranger into her home wasn't just reckless—it was insane.
And yet…
She could still see his face when she made the offer, the way his entire body seemed to ease, as though her words had anchored him to the world again.
She turned over, pulling the blanket tighter around her.
Maybe she had made a mistake. Maybe she hadn't.
But deep down, she knew one thing for certain: for reasons she couldn't name, keeping him close felt exactly right.
Chapter Five – New Beginnings
Adrian wasn't expecting her.
He had convinced himself that the little lady with the stubborn chin and warm eyes would vanish after that night, like a dream that faded with the morning light. But when the door creaked open two days later and Elena stepped inside with a paper bag clutched in her hands, his heart startled in his chest.
"You came back," he said quietly.
She raised an eyebrow. "Of course I did. Did you think I'd leave you to hospital porridge forever?"
His lips curved faintly, that soft almost-smile that had begun to undo her more than she liked. "I wasn't sure."
"Well," she set the bag on his lap, "next time, don't doubt me."
Inside the bag was warm bread, golden and fragrant. Adrian stared at it for a moment like it was treasure, then looked back at her. "You baked this?"
"Every morning." She shrugged as if it wasn't impressive, though her fingers still smelled faintly of flour. "Try it."
He tore a piece off awkwardly, still clumsy with his hands, and tasted it. His eyes closed, a low sound escaping his throat. "Better than anything they've given mel here."
The way he said it—simple, sincere—made her chest feel strange.
---
That first surprise visit turned into a pattern.
She came again the next day, and the day after. At first she told herself it was out of pity, that no one else visited him and the nurses were overworked. But soon, pity wasn't the reason anymore.
Adrian began to wait for her.
Every time she walked in, his face lit up in a way that startled her. He wasn't flashy with it—no grand gestures, no words dripping in charm—but the warmth in his storm-grey eyes was enough.
She brought him small things: muffins, books, once even a small potted plant for his window. He received them as if each was a priceless gift. And in return, he gave her something she hadn't expected—gentleness.
When she helped him sit up, he always murmured a soft thank you. When she handed him water, he sipped carefully, never demanding. Once, when she sneezed unexpectedly, he reached for a tissue with clumsy hands and pressed it into hers like it was the most important task in the world.
And slowly, she realized—this man, whoever he was before the accident, wasn't cruel. He wasn't arrogant. He was… kind.
---
Two weeks slipped by.
On the morning of his discharge, Elena found herself lingering by the bakery's ovens longer than usual, her hands dusted with flour as her mind circled the same thought. What would happen to him now?
When she arrived at the hospital, Adrian was already dressed in simple clothes the staff had provided, sitting at the edge of the bed like he didn't quite know how to move forward. A bag with a few belongings rested by his feet.
His eyes found her instantly. Relief softened his features. "You came."
"Of course," she said lightly, though her throat felt tight. "Big day."
He glanced at the floor. "They said I'm ready. But… I don't know where to go."
Her heart twisted. She'd suspected as much. He had no memory, no family here, no plan.
For a long moment, silence stretched between them. Then the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.
"You could… stay with me."
Adrian's head snapped up, eyes widening.
"I mean—just for now," she hurried on, cheeks heating. "Until your memory comes back. I have a spare room. And the hospital can't exactly just throw you out on the street."
He studied her, quiet, as if weighing the offer carefully.
But Elena wasn't done. "There are conditions," she added, her tone firm. "You'll need to work. If you can't find a job right away, you can help at the bakery. There's always dough to knead, shelves to stock. No freeloading."
For a second, something flickered across his face—surprise, then something else. Almost amusement. Almost… gratitude.
"You'd trust me enough to let me live with you?" he asked softly.
Elena bit her lip. "Trust might be a strong word. Let's call it… giving you a chance."
His lips curved into that rare, soft smile. "Then I'll take it."
The simplicity of his acceptance startled her more than anything. No pride, no protest—just quiet sincerity.
She exhaled, realizing only then how tightly she'd been holding her breath. "Alright then. New beginning."
Adrian leaned back slightly, his eyes still on her. "With you?"
The question wasn't teasing. It was hopeful. And against her better judgment, she nodded.
"Yes," she whispered. "With me."
" But, first we need to know what to address you as "
" A name ? " he asked
" Yes, let's call you Adrian, you look like an Adrian, it suits you "
" thank you "
---
That night, as she lay awake in her small apartment, staring at the ceiling, Elena wondered if she'd lost her mind. Inviting a stranger into her home wasn't just reckless—it was insane.
And yet…
She could still see his face when she made the offer, the way his entire body seemed to ease, as though her words had anchored him to the world again.
She turned over, pulling the blanket tighter around her.
Maybe she had made a mistake. Maybe she hadn't.
But deep down, she knew one thing for certain: for reasons she couldn't name, keeping him close felt exactly right.