The loud sound of Lydia's slap rang through the hospital ward like a thunderclap, freezing everyone in place. Adrian stood frozen, a mixture of shock and regret washing over his face. The nurses staring through the window gasped, covering their mouths.
Lydia's eyes flared with anger and hurt. "That's what you deserve," she spat, turning away without another word.
The room was silent as she limped out, pulling her IV stand beside her. Her heart raced, not because of the slap—but because of the confusion in her chest. She couldn't understand why she felt her heart beating for someone she hated.
Adrian didn't move. He stood there, stunned and speechless.
Meanwhile, Adrian stood outside the hospital for hours, staring at the sky as though looking for answers. Just as he was about to leave, a sleek black car pulled up beside him.
The door opened and out stepped his longtime friend and business partner, Leo.
"Adrian? What the hell is going on?" Leo asked, looking concerned. "I heard someone fainted in your restaurant? What happened?"
Adrian didn't answer. He simply walked toward his car in silence.
"Hey, Adrian!" Leo called, confused. "Talk to me, man!"
But Adrian drove off, saying nothing.
---
Days passed.
And each day, Adrian returned.
He brought fresh flowers every time. Sometimes books. Sometimes music. But Lydia wouldn't let him in.
Every day, he sat quietly outside her ward door, hoping for a chance. He even paid for her treatments without ever mentioning it.
Lydia knew.
She found out from the nurse on the third day.
But she didn't thank him.
Instead, the next time she saw him, she shouted, "I didn't ask for your help! Stop trying to force your way into my life!"
Adrian said nothing. He simply bowed his head and left, only to return again the next day.
Lydia turned away from Adrian without another word and returned to her ward. She didn't care to hear another excuse or charming line — she'd had enough. The moment the door shut behind her, a wave of emotion swept over her. Her heart thudded against her chest, but she told herself it was just the stress, not him.
Adrian stood there for a moment, looking at the closed door.
She didn't want him around — that was clear. But something inside him refused to walk away.
From that day forward, Adrian began visiting Lydia every single day. Some days he brought flowers. Some days, books. Some days, he just sat in silence outside her ward, waiting. And even when she ignored him — even when she told the nurses to tell him she didn't want to see anyone — he didn't stop.
He quietly paid for Lydia's treatments. He contacted the best doctors, arranged for a more comfortable bed, and even installed a new television in her ward. The nurses and even some patients began whispering about the mysterious handsome man who never gave up on the girl in Ward 6.
But Lydia didn't budge.
"You think money can fix everything?" she snapped at him one morning.
Adrian, who stood holding a tray of fresh breakfast pastries, blinked. "No. I think it can help, sometimes. But I'm not trying to fix you, Lydia. I'm trying to be here."
"I didn't ask for you to be," she muttered, pulling the blanket over her legs and turning away.
Still, he didn't stop coming.
One rainy evening, Adrian walked into the hospital once again, holding a small bouquet of white lilies. The moment he stepped into the hallway leading to Lydia's ward, he noticed someone sitting just outside the door — a tall, stern-looking man reading a newspaper.
Lydia's father.
Adrian approached slowly, offering a polite smile. "Good evening, sir. I'm looking for—"
The man dropped the newspaper to the ground and stood abruptly.
"You again," he growled.
Adrian blinked in surprise but kept his composure. "Yes. I was just coming to see Lydia. I—"
Before he could finish, Lydia's father grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the wall.
"You think this is some kind of game? You humiliated my daughter in front of strangers. Do you have any idea what she's been through?"
Adrian didn't resist. "I know. And I'm trying to make it right."
"She doesn't need your pity!" her father shouted. "She doesn't need your guilt money or your fake apologies!"
"I'm not here out of guilt," Adrian said calmly. "And I'm not asking for forgiveness. I'm just trying to be present."
The older man's eyes burned into Adrian's. His fists were still clenched at his sides.
Inside the ward, Lydia could hear the yelling. She sat up slowly, confused, and when she saw her mother peering nervously toward the door, she knew it had to be about Adrian again.
"Is Dad yelling at him?" Lydia asked, half amused.
Her mother didn't answer — just bit her lip and looked away.
Moments later, the door opened and Lydia's father walked in silently. He didn't speak a word. Adrian didn't follow.
But he came back the next day. And the next. And the next.
Days passed into weeks.
Despite Lydia's anger, despite the emotional wall she built around her heart, Adrian remained a steady presence. He learned the names of the nurses, brought snacks for the children's ward, and occasionally helped Lydia's mother carry groceries from the car.
One morning, Lydia woke up and glanced at the chair by her bedside. Empty.
For the first time in days, Adrian hadn't shown up. She didn't know why, but her chest ached just a little.
"Where's your stalker today?" one nurse teased playfully.
Lydia didn't smile. "He's not my stalker."
"Could've fooled me," the nurse said. "He waited outside for three hours yesterday just to bring you a scarf because he said it was chilly."
That night, Adrian finally arrived — later than usual. He looked tired, like he hadn't slept.
Lydia sat up. "Where were you?" she asked before she could stop herself.
Adrian blinked, then smiled. "Were you worried about me?"
She rolled her eyes and looked away. "I didn't say that."
He stepped closer. "I had to fly in a doctor from Switzerland. They might have new options for you. We're going to try them next week."
Lydia's gaze softened, just a little. "Why?"
"Because I can't stop thinking about the girl who slapped me and still somehow made my heart race."
She looked at him for a moment, and for once, she didn't speak. Silence stretched between them, warm and uncertain.
Then she simply said, "Don't expect a thank you."
He smiled. "I won't. But I'll still show up tomorrow."
And he did.