3.

I was sitting on the bed, a book resting in my hands, pretending to read—pretending to calm the storm inside my head.

The door opened softly.

Mina walked in.

She looked at me, then at the book, raising an eyebrow.

"I told you to sleep," she said. "And here you are… reading."

I slowly placed the book aside.

"I tried," I whispered.

She walked closer.

"It's late. Why are you still awake?" I asked as I lay back against the pillow.

"Taking care of you," she replied with a warm smile, gently fixing the blanket around me.

Then she moved toward the sofa—one of the small privileges of a VIP room. She slipped off her doctor's coat and lay down.

Stretching her tired arms and legs, she sighed.

"I had a very hectic day today… filling in your place."

Guilt pressed heavily on my chest.

"I'm sorry," I murmured.

She turned her head toward me.

"Don't be," she said softly. "Even if it was because of illness, you still deserve rest."

She smiled.

The warmest kind of smile.

One I couldn't return.

I turned my face toward the ceiling.

Silence settled between us.

But it wasn't peaceful.

It was heavy.

Somehow… she sensed the chaos inside me.

"Who is he?" Mina asked quietly.

I shook my head without looking at her.

"I don't know."

"His name?"

"No."

"Then where did you find him?"

"He met with an accident… right in front of my house," I replied.

Mina hummed thoughtfully.

"The hospital has already informed the police," she said. "They're investigating. Soon they'll locate his family."

She paused.

"So try not to worry about him. It's not your responsibility anymore."

She waited for a response.

But I had none.

She let out a tired sigh.

Then, gently —

"Now sleep."

She turned to her side and closed her eyes.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Wide awake.

°°°°°°

Minutes passed.

Or maybe hours.

Time had stopped making sense.

Mina's breathing from the sofa grew slow and steady.

She was asleep.

I turned my head slightly, just enough to look at her.

Still asleep.

My heart started pounding—not loud, not fast.

Careful.

Like it was afraid of being heard.

I slowly pushed the blanket aside.

The moment my bare feet touched the cold floor, a shiver ran through me.

Just one look, I told myself.

Just to see him. Then I'll come back.

I moved as quietly as I could, every small sound feeling too loud in my ears.

One step.

Then another.

When I reached the door, I paused.

For a second, doubt crept in.

What if Mina wakes up?

What if I collapse again?

But then his face flashed in my mind.

His eyes.

The way he had looked at me… like I was the only thing keeping him here.

My hand tightened around the door handle.

I opened it slowly.

The hallway outside was dim, bathed in soft blue night lights. Everything was silent except for distant machine beeps and the faint hum of hospital equipment.

I stepped out.

The door clicked shut behind me.

And just like that…

I was alone.

I wrapped my arms around myself as I walked, partly from cold, partly from fear.

Each step felt heavier than the last.

My chest tightened with every ICU sign I passed.

When I finally reached the glass doors of the ICU, my breath caught.

There he was.

Lying on the bed.

Motionless.

Machines surrounded him, wires attached to his body, a ventilator helping him breathe.

For a moment, I couldn't move.

What if he looked different?

What if I couldn't handle seeing him like this?

But my feet carried me forward anyway.

I stopped beside his bed.

Up close, he looked… fragile.

Not like the man who had survived a violent crash.

Not like the man who had held onto my hand in fear.

Just… human.

So painfully human.

My eyes burned.

"You're alive," I whispered, like I needed to hear it out loud.

The machine beside him beeped steadily.

Proof.

I reached out slowly, hesitating for a second before gently wrapping my fingers around his hand.

Warm.

Still warm.

A shaky breath left my lips.

Tears slid down my cheeks, falling onto the blanket.

My thumb brushed lightly over his knuckles.

"Please wake up," I murmured. "Just once… so I know you're really here."

The room stayed silent.

But I stayed.

Holding his hand.

Keeping my promise.

Not leaving.

And then suddenly I felt something.

My entire body froze.

His fingers…

They moved.

Just a little.

Barely noticeable.

But I felt it.

My breath caught in my throat.

I stared at our joined hands like I was afraid that if I blinked, the moment would vanish.

Did he…?

My heart started racing.

Slowly, carefully, I tightened my grip around his hand.

Nothing.

No movement.

No response.

Silence.

The fragile hope inside me wavered.

It was your imagination, my mind whispered.

You're exhausted. You're emotional. You're breaking.

I swallowed hard.

An illusion.

It had to be.

I was so desperate for him to live that my mind was creating things that weren't real.

I let out a shaky breath and gently placed his hand back on the bed.

That's when I heard footsteps.

I turned.

Mina stood at the doorway.

My lips parted instantly.

"Mina… I think—" I hesitated, then forced the words out. "I felt his finger move."

Mina's expression shifted.

Not to shock.

Not to excitement.

To concern.

She walked toward me slowly.

"That's not possible," she said calmly.

The words hurt more than I expected.

"He just came out of a critical surgery," she continued.

"He's heavily sedated. He won't regain consciousness for at least forty-eight hours."

I looked back at him.

He looked the same.

Still.

Silent.

Unmoving.

Mina placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"You're exhausted," she said softly. "You've been through too much in one night."

Maybe she was right.

Maybe my heart was playing cruel games with me.

But even as I nodded…

A small part of me refused to let go of what I had felt.

Because illusions don't feel warm.

And they don't feel real.

But his hand had.

And I had felt it.

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