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    Liam’s POV


    As the nurse pushed Sienna’s bed into the VIP ward, I walked beside her. There was a strong urge inside me to make sure everything was perfect–the mattress soft enough, the lighting calm, even the scent of the room not too sharp. I wanted her to befortable. Not just safe, but truly able to rest.


    Once everything was set, the nurse excused herself. The room fell silent, the only sound the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Sienna was still asleep, her face pale, her hair slightly disheveled. I sat in the chair next to her bed, watching her for a long while. Relief came from the doctor’s assurance that her condition wasn’t too serious, yet fear still lingered–fear of losing her.


    I leaned back in the chair, trying to steady my breathing. The room was too quiet. The rhythmic machine was calming, but it also made every passing second feel heavy. My gaze never left Sienna, her frail body hidden under the white nket.


    The door creaked softly. A middle–aged woman entered, wearing a worn cardigan, her face tired but kind. Behind her, a young man–perhaps her son–pushed another patient’s bed into the room next door, separated only by a thin curtain.


    I stood reflexively, nodding politely. The woman returned a faint smile. “Sorry to intrude. We were just transferred from the ER.” Her voice was soft, polite.


    “It’s all right, Ma’am. Please,” I replied briefly.


    They busied themselves settling in while I sat back down. Still, I couldn’t help ncing over. From the lines on her face, I could see the same deep worry I had felt earlier that morning.


    Soon, the woman sat by the bedside of her husband—an elderly man with an oxygen tube in his nose. She stared at him intently, then let out a long sigh. Maybe sensing my gaze, she turned to me. “Your wife <i>is </i>unwell too?” she asked quietly.


    I nodded. “Yes. Just came from the ER as well. Thankfully, nothing too serious.”


    Her eyes lit faintly. “That’s good. If it’s only appendicitis, it can be managed. Don’t wait too long with things like that–it can be dangerous.” Her tone carried the weight of experience.


    I leaned forward slightly. “And your husband, Ma’am?” I asked carefully.


    She looked at the old man with tenderness, a bittersweet smile on her lips. “Yes. He’s had lung problems for a long time. When the breathing gets this bad, we have toe to the hospital. We’ve grown used toing and going, but still… it never gets easier.”


    I fell silent. Her words struck me. Heavy. Yes, no matter how many times it happens, the fear of losing


    someone never lessens.


    “He’s stubborn, you know<i>,</i><i>” </i>she continued, her voice trembling. “Doesn’t want hospitals, always insists on staying home. Butst night, it was so bad. Thankfully, my son acted quickly.” She nced at the young man now dozing off in a chair.


    I nodded slowly, something tightening in my chest. “Without loved ones watching over, many would


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    probably just give up at home. It’s good he has you and your son.”


    She smiled faintly, her eyes glistening. “We can’t do much except stay by their side. Doctors give medicine, machines help them breathe… but what truly keeps a patient strong is knowing they’re not alone.”


    Her words pierced me. Reflexively, I turned to Sienna, still asleep, her pale face peaceful. The woman’s words confirmed the thought that had been gnawing at me all along: I couldn’t let her face any of this alone -not the pain, not anything.


    I let out a long breath. “You’re right, Ma’am. That’s what matters most.”


    We both fell into silence, each lost in our own thoughts. Yet, somehow, that short exchange eased me. It made me feel less alone as a watcher, knowing behind the thin curtain was someone who understood exactly what I was feeling.


    I looked at Sienna again. My hand reached for hers, holding her cold fingers. Outside, the sun rose higher, its light slipping through the hospital curtains. For the first time since morning, I felt a renewed strength within me: to guard, to stay, to make sure she knew she wasn’t alone.


    Time passed. I only sat there, asionally checking my phone, replying to a message from Noah’s babysitter saying he had left for school. But my mind remained here. Seeing Sienna this fragile tore at me, but it also made me realize something I hated to admit–just how much I still cared.


    Around nine, she stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open, blinking as if trying to recognize the ce.


    “Where… am I?” her voice was hoarse, almost a whisper.


    “At the hospital,” I said gently. “You’re in the VIP ward.”


    Her eyes widened a little, then she tried to sit up but winced. “Why VIP? I don’t want this. Just move me to a regr ward. I—”


    I sighed, leaning closer so my eyes met hers. “Sienna, don’t let your pride get in the way right now. You need rest. The doctor said you’ll be under observation for three days, and I want youfortable.”


    She stared at me for a long while<b>, </b>as if wanting to argue, but I continued before she could speak.


    “I don’t care about the cost, or what anyone says. The only thing I care about is you getting better. Noah misses you. This morning he had a nightmare–that you were in pain. Do you think I can rx if you insist on a crowded ward? I won’t take that risk.”


    Her expression softened, though I could see a quiet struggle behind her eyes. Sienna was always stubborn, but I also knew she could yield when it came to Noah.


    “I’m here,” I added more gently, “not to control your life. I just want to make sure you’re okay. If you don’t want me around, I can step out… but I won’t let you move to another room.”


    She exhaled softly, turning her face away. No direct reply–but that was enough for me.


    I reached for the ss of water on the bedside table, then helped tilt her body slightly. “Drink first,<b>” </b><b>I </b>said. She obeyed, though her eyes were still full of questions.


    And in that moment, I realized–even though we’ve long been apart, even though there’s a distance that


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    can’t just disappear–I would still alwayse when she needed me. Even if she herself wasn’t ready to admit it.


    “What did the doctor say?” she asked hoarsely, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to recall what had happened. “I only remember my stomach hurting… then everything went dark. I don’t remember anything else.”


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