Chapter 8

Hospital. Henry Carter stood there, totally stumped as the doctor asked him questions. He had no clue. Lowering his gaze, he looked at the unconscious woman lying in bed. Her pale face was drained of color, and her brows were tightly furrowed, like she was caught in some awful nightmare. He dug through her pocket and pulled out a phone—battery long dead. After charging it up and powering it on, he finally found an emergency contact. A guy, from the name. Henry walked to the window and made the call, but it just kept ringing. No one picked up. Meanwhile, over in another hospital wing— Theodore was sitting by Isabella's bedside. The IV drip was almost finished when the attending doctor came in, looking pretty grim. "You're family?" the doctor asked. "Can I speak with you outside for a moment? There's something about her condition we need to go over." As Theodore started to rise, Isabella reached out and grabbed his hand. "Just say it here, doctor." She figured, at worst, the doctor would say she's a bit weak and needs rest. This was the perfect moment to push Theodore into giving her a proper title. But the doctor didn't beat around the bush. "Based on the scans, it looks like early-stage breast cancer. Of course, we need further tests to get a clearer picture. I suggest we admit her first, then plan treatment accordingly." "W-what?" Isabella was completely blindsided. She'd just soaked in cold water for a bit—how did it turn into cancer? Even Theodore was caught off guard, staring at her with a dark, unreadable expression. He hadn't noticed anything was wrong with her all this time... and now this. Just then, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the caller ID—Victoria. Without thinking, he ended the call and stepped around the bed. "We'll do the admission now. Please go ahead and arrange the next steps." After the doctor left, Theodore turned around to see Isabella sitting on the bed with her hands covering her face. She looked so fragile it hurt to look at her. He walked over slowly, still shaken by the news himself. "You'll get through this. I'll be right here with you," he said, his voice unusually soft as he rested his hand on her shoulder and gave her a light pat. Isabella leaned into him, putting her face against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "I'm okay, Theo. You don't have to worry about me." Her forced calm only made Theodore frown. He wrapped his arms around her in return. "I won't let anything happen to you." "As long as you're here with me, that's enough," she whispered, sounding like she might pass out any second. Theodore didn't reply. He just stared out the window at the budding leaves, thoughts already drifting far away. Her quiet dependence only made him ache more. At that moment, Victoria's unanswered call didn't even cross his mind. Compared to a life, nothing else mattered. But as soon as Theodore left to process the admission paperwork, Isabella's gentle mask crumbled. She grabbed a pillow and hurled it onto the floor, then buried her hands in her hair in frustration. How could it be cancer? Why her of all people?Just when she thought she'd finally surpassed Victoria and was about to step into the dream life as Theodore's woman, the universe just had to mess with her? At the nurses' station, a few young nurses were whispering among themselves. "Room 703, right? That girl must be Isabella. I've seen her movies before—she's seriously so pretty in real life. Even without makeup, her skin is flawless. And the guy taking care of her? Total heartthrob. Must be her boyfriend, right?" "I bet it's her brother. I haven't heard of her dating anyone. But that face and those proportions? Way too good to be true." They were clearly all fangirling when, out of nowhere, a tall, ridiculously good-looking man walked up to them. Henry cut straight to the point, not at all interested in their gossip. "Hey, is there anywhere nearby I can grab some food?" The doctor had said Victoria was seriously malnourished and dehydrated—that she needed to eat something decent once she woke up. He'd already spent much more time here than he'd planned, but somehow, sticking around a little longer didn't seem like a big deal anymore. Henry couldn't quite put his finger on it. Normally, he'd never get involved in something like this. He hated trouble. But now... One of the nurses, cheeks turning pink under Henry's gaze—those sharp brows and intense eyes were no joke—quickly pointed him in the direction of a nearby spot. "Thanks." Henry gave a polite nod and turned to leave, just as a quiet squeal came from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted a man in all black stepping out of one of the doctors' offices. The lighting hit just right—the guy's side profile looked like it had been chiseled by an artist. Henry paused mid-step. That guy looked familiar. He was about to go over, but then Theodore turned the corner and disappeared from view. Henry ended up buying some light, bland food and headed back to the room. He figured he'd try messaging Victoria's emergency contact again with an update. Just as he pulled out his phone, a soft, choked sound came from the bed. Victoria stirred, her head shifting from side to side, forehead slick with sweat. Henry set his phone down and walked over. He leaned in, hand reaching to wipe her brow. In the dark haze of her mind, Victoria thought she heard a faint voice—someone calling her name again and again. She couldn't tell who it was, or where it was coming from. Then, a sudden flash of white light—she blinked open her eyes slowly. Her vision was blurry, but the person standing in front of her... "Elijah..." Her voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. She tried moving her fingers, but her whole body felt like lead. No strength left at all. "Elijah, is that really you?" She had no clue if this was a dream or reality. Her eyes locked onto the man in front of her as tears welled up and spilled over without warning. Henry froze. Who's Elijah? He opened his mouth to explain, but the way she was looking at him—those red-rimmed eyes, the fragile hope on her face—it hit him hard. Like someone had punched him square in the chest. And just like that, his resolve crumbled. The words stuck in his throat. He couldn't move. For a second, all he wanted was to know everything about this woman. Victoria slowly reached out, her pinky hooking around his. "Am I dreaming, Elijah..." She didn't dare blink. What if she closed her eyes and he disappeared? But the haze in her vision started to clear, and when her eyes finally focused... She realized he wasn't Elijah. Even though something about their facial features felt oddly familiar—he wasn't him. "You... you're—"