Chapter 15
The hospital room was quiet, save for the steady beep of the heart monitor beside the bed.
Parker sat in the corner, hands clasped tightly together, staring at Lindsey’s pale face. Her hanc rested limp atop the white sheets, and though the doctor had assured him it was only stress and fatigue, he hadn’t left her side since they brought her in.
He had never known a feeling like this–not fear, not even rage–just this sharp, helpless ache knowing she was hurt and couldn’t speak for herself.
He could still hear her scream. Still see the way her body hit the floor. And it wrecked something inside him.
Lindsey. The woman he had watched from across crowded lecture halls in college. Back then, she was sunlight. Confident, talented, always smiling. He’d admired her from a distance–never daring to approach her, not really. By the time he had gathered enough courage, she was already with Alex.
He remembered seeing the engagement announcement on social media. That tiny diamond on her hand, the sparkle in her eyes. He told himself he was too late. That she wasn’t meant for him. So he moved on. Or tried to.
The years that followed were filled with noise–flings, shallow relationships, meaningless laughs. All attempts to erase the name that always lingered in the corners of his mind.
Lindsey.
And now, here she was again. In his life. In his arms. Real. He wasn’t going to lose her. Not again.
Parker stood, gently brushing a knuckle against her hand. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered.
He left the room and headed toward the hospital café. The doctor had said food would help when she woke up. Something warm. Something comforting. And flowers–she loved wildflowers, he remembered.
On his way out, bouquet in hand, someone called his name.
“Parker?”
He turned, brows raising at the familiar voice.
A tall, stylish brunette walked toward him with a wide smile.
“Mandy?” he said, stunned.
Mandy was a familiar face from a distant chapter–an old friend, and yes, a former fling. But that was all she had ever been. Parker had never loved her, never even come close. They had shared a few laughs, a few late nights, but no real pieces of themselves. She had always wanted more, but he couldn’t give it. Not when his heart had never truly been in it. Not when, deep down, it had always been preoccupied with someone else. Lindsey.
“It’s been forever!” she beamed.
Before he could react, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug. Her perfume was strong, overwhelming.
And then–she kissed him.
Even if your
4:35 pm DDXX.
It wasn’t deep or long, but it was enough to catch him off guard.
He pulled away quickly, eyes narrowing. “Mandy, no. I’m with someone now.”
Her smile faltered. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Just… old habits, I guess.”
Parker exhaled, awkward. “It’s okay. Really. I just–can’t do that anymore.”
Mandy nodded slowly. “Well… maybe you can introduce me to her sometime?”
He offered a weak smile. “Yeah. That would be amazing.”
But what he didn’t see–what he couldn’t know–was the figure standing a few feet behind him.
Lindsey.
She had woken up alone in the hospital room, disoriented and confused, only to be told Parker had stepped out. So she went looking. Heart pounding, barefoot beneath her hospital gown, she had wandered out.
And there she saw him.
Laughing. Hugging. Being kissed.
The sting was instant.
Her chest tightened, her mind spinning–how foolish of me to believe in this again.
She didn’t wait for explanations. She didn’t need to.
With trembling hands, she turned and walked away.
Back into the night. Back into uncertainty. Back into silence.
Parker returned ten minutes later, a paper bag in one hand and the flowers in the other. He was smiling, still shaking his head from the awkward run–in.
Parker stepped into the hospital room, the scent of antiseptic still lingering in the air. The bouquet of wildflowers in his hand added a touch of color to the sterile environment. He balanced a paper bag containing Lindsey’s favorite soup and a fresh croissant from the café downstairs.
But the bed was empty.
He blinked, momentarily disoriented. Perhaps she was in the bathroom. He approached the en–suite, knocking gently.
“Lindsey?” he called softly.
No response.
He opened the door. The bathroom was empty, the mirror still fogged from an earlier shower.
A knot formed in his stomach.
He stepped into the hallway, scanning for any sign of her. The corridor was quiet, nurses attending to their duties, patients resting in their rooms.
Approaching the nurses‘ station, he tried to keep his voice steady. “Excuse me, have you seen the patient from room 312? Lindsey?”
A nurse looked up, concern flickering in her eyes. “She was resting when I checked an hour ago. Let me check the logs.”
She typed rapidly, eyes scanning the screen. “There’s no record of her discharge or transfer.”
4:35 pm DDXX.
Parker’s heart pounded. “Could she have gone for tests?”
The nurse shook her head. “Unlikely without a doctor’s order, and there’s none here.”
He backed away, the walls closing in. He retraced his steps, checking the waiting area, the cafeteria, even the hospital chapel. Each location offered no sign of her.
Returning to the room, he noticed something he hadn’t before–a piece of paper on the bedside table. He unfolded it, recognizing Lindsey’s handwriting:
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
His knees buckled, and he sank into the chair beside the bed, the note trembling in his hands.
