Ashley’s POV( A door left open)

The wheels of my chair rolled slowly across the polished hospital floor.

Don’t stop.

The words repeated themselves over and over inside my head.

Don’t think.

Just move.

The hallway stretched endlessly before me, almost too quiet for a place this large. The fluorescent lights above hummed softly, their white glow reflecting against the spotless tiles beneath my wheelchair.

Every sound made me flinch.

The distant ringing of a telephone.

The squeak of a nurse’s shoes.

The soft beeping of medical equipment from behind closed doors.

It all felt louder than it should.

As though the hospital itself knew I was trying to escape.

I tightened my grip on the wheels and kept moving.

My arms already ached.

The doctors had insisted I spend another week recovering after the accident, which meant I hadn’t been using the wheelchair much on my own. Pushing myself now was harder than I remembered.

But pain didn’t matter.

Not anymore.

I had survived my husband’s betrayal.

I had signed the divorce papers.

There was nothing left for me in this city except memories that refused to die.

A nurse appeared at the end of the hallway.

My heartbeat stumbled.

She looked up.

Our eyes met.

For one terrifying second, I was sure she would stop me.

Instead, she smiled politely.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.”

I forced the corners of my lips upward.

“Good afternoon.”

She walked past me without another word.

Only after she disappeared around the corner did I realize I had been holding my breath.

I let it out slowly.

You’re becoming paranoid, Ashley.

Maybe I was.

Or maybe I wasn’t paranoid enough.

The elevator doors stood a few feet ahead.

I pressed the call button.

Nothing.

I pressed it again.

Still nothing.

The small digital display above the doors blinked.

12…

11…

10…

It was coming down.

Each passing number made my chest tighten.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone would step out of those doors.

Someone Alvin had sent.

The thought made my fingers grow cold.

No.

He couldn’t possibly know where I was.

…Could he?

The elevator chimed.

The doors slid open.

My heart lurched painfully.

A doctor wheeled an elderly patient out, followed by a young woman carrying a bouquet of fresh lilies.

Neither of them spared me a second glance.

I released a shaky breath.

See?

Not everyone is looking for you.

Still…

I couldn’t relax.

Not yet.

I pushed myself inside the elevator.

The mirrored walls reflected a woman I barely recognized.

Pale.

Thin.

Dark circles beneath swollen eyes.

My hair, once carefully styled every morning, now fell loosely around my shoulders.

For a long moment…

I simply stared.

Was this really me?

Three weeks.

That was all it had taken.

Three weeks for my marriage to crumble.

Three weeks to lose my company.

Three weeks to lose the man I thought would spend forever with me.

I looked away before the tears could return.

I had promised myself.

No more crying.

Not for Alvin.

Never again.

The elevator doors opened onto the ground floor.

Voices filled the lobby.

Patients.

Visitors.

Doctors.

The normal sounds of everyday life.

It felt strangely comforting.

No one here knew who I was.

No one knew I had died once already.

To them…

I was just another woman in a wheelchair.

And maybe…

That was exactly what I needed.

A fresh start.

Outside, the late afternoon air carried the scent of approaching rain.

Dark clouds hung low across the sky.

The breeze brushed against my face, cool and gentle.

For the first time in what felt like forever…

I wasn’t trapped inside four hospital walls.

I closed my eyes briefly.

The air filled my lungs.

Freedom.

It felt unfamiliar.

Scary.

Beautiful.

My fingers instinctively reached into my handbag.

Passport.

Still there.

Phone.

Still there.

The bank transfer notification from Kayla.

Still there.

Ten thousand dollars.

It wasn’t enough to rebuild my life.

But it was enough to begin again.

Now…

I just needed to get as far away from this city as possible.

She turned toward the hospital entrance one last time.

The glass doors reflected her image.

For a brief second, memories flooded back.

The day Alvin carried her into this same hospital after the accident.

The way he had held her hand while promising,

“We’ll get through this together.”

She almost laughed.

Almost.

Funny how lies could sound exactly like love.

Ashley lowered her gaze.

“Goodbye.”

She wasn’t sure whether she was saying goodbye to the hospital…

Or to the life she had lived until now.

She turned her wheelchair toward the driveway.

“Aren’t you leaving a little too soon?”

The deep voice came from behind her.

Ashley froze.

Her fingers tightened around the wheels.

Slowly…

She turned.

The man from earlier stood a few steps away.

His charcoal suit was slightly wrinkled now, his tie loosened as though he’d been searching for someone in a hurry.

His eyes met hers.

Not angry.

Not accusing.

Just… relieved.

“I came back to your room,” he said quietly.

“It was empty.”

Ashley swallowed.

For reasons she couldn’t explain…

A small part of her felt guilty.

“I…”

She stopped herself.

No.

She didn’t owe him an explanation.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” she said after a moment. “Really, I do. But I have somewhere I need to be.”

His gaze lingered on the small travel bag hanging from the back of her wheelchair.

“So you weren’t just taking a walk.”

It wasn’t a question.

Ashley shook her head.

“No.”

Silence settled between them.

The wind picked up, carrying the first cold drops of rain.

He glanced at the darkening sky before looking back at her.

“Can I ask you one question?”

Ashley hesitated.

“…Go ahead.”

His expression remained unreadable.

“Are you running away from something…”

He paused just long enough for her heart to tighten.

“…or from someone?”

Ashley felt her breath catch.

How…

How did he know?

My fingers tightened instinctively around the wheels of my chair.

How did he know?

I searched his face, trying to find the answer there, but his expression remained calm. There was no curiosity in his eyes. No triumph. Just quiet patience, as though he wasn’t expecting me to answer if I didn’t want to.

The rain began to fall again.

Soft.

Cold.

It landed lightly against my skin before growing steadier with each passing second.

Neither of us moved.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” I finally said, breaking the silence.

He nodded once.

“Fair enough.”

That was it.

No pressure.

No insistence.

No attempt to pry.

For some reason, that made me even more uneasy.

Most people would’ve kept asking.

Especially after spending hours sitting beside a complete stranger in a hospital room.

But he simply accepted my answer.

His gaze drifted toward the sky.

“It’ll rain harder in a few minutes.”

I looked away.

“I’ve always hated the rain.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

A small crease appeared between his brows.

“Hated it?”

I nodded.

“The doctors say it’s normal after severe nerve damage.”

I tried to smile.

It didn’t reach my eyes.

“Whenever it rains… my body reminds me of everything I’ve lost.”

Silence settled between us again.

Not awkward.

Just… quiet.

He didn’t rush to comfort me.

He didn’t tell me everything would be okay.

He simply stood there.

Listening.

Strangely…

That felt better than empty reassurance.

Another gust of wind swept through the hospital driveway.

This time, the rain came down harder.

Within seconds, my sleeves were damp.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he said.

“I’ll survive.”

His eyes lingered on me for a moment.

“I’m beginning to think surviving is something you’re forcing yourself to do.”

My heart skipped.

I looked up at him.

He wasn’t looking at my wheelchair.

He wasn’t looking at my scars.

He was looking at me.

As though he could somehow see past everything I was trying so desperately to hide.

I looked away first.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe.”

His voice remained gentle.

“But you don’t look like someone who’s simply going on a trip.”

My throat tightened.

I wanted to tell him he was wrong.

That I was just leaving.

That everything was fine.

But the words refused to come.

Because nothing was fine.

Not anymore.

A taxi slowly pulled into the hospital driveway.

The driver rolled down the window.

“Taxi, ma’am?”

Hope flickered inside me.

“Yes.”

I turned my chair toward the vehicle.

Before I could move another inch, the driver noticed the wheelchair.

His smile faded.

“Ah…”

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I’m sorry.”

“My trunk is already full.”

“I can’t carry the wheelchair.”

My heart sank.

“I can fold it.”

The driver shook his head apologetically.

“I have another booking.”

Without another word, he drove away.

I watched the taillights disappear through the rain.

One taxi.

Gone.

“It’s okay,” I whispered to myself.

“I’ll get another one.”

Except…

The next one drove past.

Then another.

One stopped briefly before leaving after seeing the wheelchair.

By the fourth taxi…

I stopped trying to wave them down.

Maybe it was the weather.

Maybe they didn’t want the inconvenience.

Or maybe…

People simply didn’t have time for broken women.

I lowered my head.

Don’t cry.

Not here.

“I can give you a ride.”

His voice came quietly behind me.

I closed my eyes.

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking for anything in return.”

“I said no.”

He nodded.

“I heard you.”

I frowned slightly.

Why wasn’t he arguing?

Why wasn’t he trying to convince me?

Instead, he walked a few steps away and stood beneath the hospital entrance canopy.

Keeping his distance.

Giving me space.

It confused me.

If he wanted something from me…

He was doing a terrible job of getting it.

Minutes passed.

The rain continued.

I tried calling another taxi company.

No answer.

A second one.

All their drivers were unavailable.

By now, my clothes were completely soaked.

My hands had begun to tremble from the cold.

I hated this.

I hated feeling helpless.

I hated needing help.

Most of all…

I hated that life seemed determined to remind me I couldn’t do everything alone anymore.

A sigh escaped me.

Before I could overthink it…

I wheeled myself toward him.

He looked up.

“I have conditions,” I said quietly.

He waited.

“If you give me a ride…”

“…you don’t ask me where I’m going.”

He nodded immediately.

“Agreed.”

“You don’t ask about my past.”

“Agreed.”

“And after you drop me off…”

“…we never see each other again.”

For the first time…

Something unreadable crossed his face.

Gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

“If that’s what you want.”

I swallowed.

Why did those words make me feel… disappointed?

No.

That was ridiculous.

I barely knew him.

He walked toward a black sedan parked across the driveway.

Even through the rain, I could tell it wasn’t an ordinary car.

The paint gleamed.

The doors opened automatically as he approached.

Who exactly was this man?

He stopped beside me.

“May I?”

He gestured toward the wheelchair.

I hesitated before nodding once.

His movements were careful.

Respectful.

He didn’t treat me like I was fragile.

Nor did he pretend I wasn’t disabled.

He simply helped.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

As he lifted the folded wheelchair into the trunk, my eyes drifted toward the driver’s seat.

No chauffeur.

No security.

He was driving himself.

That surprised me.

Men who wore watches worth more than houses usually didn’t.

He opened the passenger door.

After helping me inside, he fastened the seatbelt without a word.

When he finished, he stepped back.

Our eyes met briefly.

“I forgot to introduce myself.”

His voice was calm.

“My name is Dominic.”

I looked at him for a long second.

The rain tapped softly against the roof of the car.

“…Ashley.”

A faint smile touched his lips.

“I know.”

My heart skipped.

Then I remembered.

The nurse had called my name earlier in the hospital.

Of course he knew.

I quietly looked out the window, embarrassed that I’d panicked over something so simple.

Dominic started the engine.

The car pulled away from the hospital.

Neither of us noticed the black SUV parked across the street.

Inside, a man slowly lowered his camera after taking several photographs.

He picked up his phone.

“The target has left the hospital.”

A cold voice answered from the other end.

“Is she alone?”

The man glanced at Dominic’s car disappearing into traffic.

“No.”

“She’s with an unidentified man.”

Silence.

Then

“Keep following them.”

The line went dead.

Far ahead, Ashley leaned her head gently against the window, unaware that her escape had already been discovered.