Adrian POV
Adrian had never been fond of hospitals. The sterile smell of antiseptic and sharp tang of disinfectant always clung to the air, a reminder of how fragile life could be. Sitting by the window in Emily's ward only intensified that reminder.
He had stayed because of Amara. The moment she looked at him with those wide, panicked eyes in the lobby...desperate, searching for someone to hold onto....something inside him had shifted. He had wanted to protect her, to shield her from the helplessness clawing at her chest.
But he hadn't expected her to notice so quickly. To question the phone call.
Adrian leaned back in the chair, his arms crossed loosely, his gaze fixed on the dark sky outside. Rain streaked the glass, each drop illuminated briefly by the glow of the streetlights below. Amara sat across the room, her head bowed as she held Emily's hand, whispering something only her friend could hear. The sight softened him in ways he didn't understand.
Yet his mind wasn't on Emily. It was on Amara's whispered thank you. On the way she looked at him after the hospital director had appeared, eyes full of questions she hadn't voiced.
He wasn't used to people questioning him. Most didn't have the courage....or the closeness....to even try.
But Amara… she was different.
He thought back to the phone call. His father's number sat near the top of his contacts list, not because they were close, but because efficiency mattered. One quick call had connected him to someone who owed his family far too many favors. In a matter of minutes, the hospital director had come down personally, exactly as expected.
It wasn't unusual. Adrian had grown up in a world where doors opened without him knocking. Where names carried weight heavier than money. His family wasn't just wealthy; they were powerful. Hospitals, pharmaceutical companies, research institutes....his father's reach extended into every corner of the medical field.
He hated it.
Not the influence itself, but the way it stripped everything of authenticity. Friends weren't really friends; they were alliances. Favors weren't kindness; they were debts waiting to be collected. Even moments of success never felt like his own.....they were his family's, stamped with a legacy he had never chosen.
He had wanted something different when he came to university. A quiet life, away from his father's shadow. A chance to blend in, to be just another student. That was why he rarely spoke, why he kept people at arm's length. The fewer connections he made, the less anyone would notice.
But now…
Now Amara had seen a glimpse of the world he carried with him, whether he wanted it or not.
He turned his gaze back to her. She was still sitting by Emily's bed, her hair falling gently around her shoulders, the hoodie he had given her draped loosely over her frame. His hoodie. The sight did something strange to his chest....an ache, a pull, a warmth he couldn't define.
She didn't know who he really was, not fully. She only knew Adrian: the quiet partner, the boy who answered in single words, the one who sat in the corner of the cafeteria and minded his own business. And he wanted to keep it that way.
Because if she knew the rest....if she knew about the influence, the family name, the expectations....would she still look at him the same way?
Would she still laugh softly when he said something unexpectedly dry? Would she still search his face for meaning when he stayed silent too long?
Or would she see him as everyone else did: untouchable, unreachable, a symbol rather than a person?
Adrian exhaled quietly, his fingers drumming once against his arm before he stilled them.
He couldn't let her know. Not yet.
Hours slipped by. At some point, Amara's head had dipped forward, her body succumbing to exhaustion. She sat in the chair beside Emily's bed, her hand still linked loosely with her friend's, her breathing steady.
Adrian watched her longer than he should have. There was something disarming about her face at rest....soft, unguarded. She wasn't like the people he grew up around, those who wore masks so expertly he never knew what they truly felt. Amara didn't hide. Every thought, every emotion crossed her features openly, honestly.
It terrified him. And yet, he couldn't look away.
He caught himself before the thought grew too heavy, running a hand over his face as if to erase it. He wasn't supposed to notice these things. He had promised himself not to. But her presence pressed against the walls he'd carefully built, slipping through cracks he hadn't realized were there.
Why did she affect him like this?
Why had he been so quick to make that phone call....for her?
The next morning, sunlight spilled into the ward, breaking apart the sterile shadows. Emily stirred faintly, her eyelids fluttering open. Amara shot upright, immediately leaning closer, her voice soft and relieved.
Adrian stepped back, letting the two friends have their moment. But his mind lingered on the night before, on the questions Amara hadn't asked.
When Emily drifted back into a light sleep, Amara turned toward him. For a heartbeat, their eyes met. Hers were rimmed with fatigue, but they still held that spark....that stubborn curiosity.
She didn't ask. Not directly. Instead, she said quietly, "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been here."
His chest tightened. He wanted to tell her not to rely on him, not to see him as something more than what he let her see. But the words stuck.
So he said the safest thing he could: "You would have managed."
She tilted her head, studying him, like she was trying to see through the walls he kept up. He forced his expression into neutrality, even as a storm brewed under his calm.
Because the truth was simple.
He had been here. And he didn't regret it.
Later, when Amara finally left to grab something from the cafeteria, Adrian stayed behind. Alone in the ward with Emily, he sat in silence, staring at the floor.
He could still feel Amara's eyes on him, the weight of her unasked questions. He knew it wouldn't stop there. She was too observant, too persistent.
She would ask again. And again. Until he slipped.
Adrian closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.
He didn't know which scared him more: the possibility of her finding out the truth… or the possibility that he wanted her to.