Chapter 5

The clamorous crowd fell silent all at once. Every gaze in the hallway converged on Silas.

Leaning against his broad chest, Sophie sobbed with tears shimmering in her eyes, but a flicker of triumph and satisfaction danced beneath the surface. Even her pale cheeks had taken on a subtle flush, stirred by excitement.

She slowly tilted her head back. Her tongue pressed hard against the roof of her mouth as she struggled to suppress the joy welling up inside her. Her reddened eyes, still moist, gazed at him with moving sincerity.

"Silas… thank you."

Lowering his eyes slightly, Silas raised his hand and gently reached toward the tears trailing down her face, driven by instinct to wipe them away.

But just as his fingertips were about to touch her skin, his hand paused. Instead, he tousled her hair.

"Silly girl. No need for thanks."

A shadow flickered quickly through her dark pupils. Sophie bit her crimson lip and shyly averted her gaze.

The intimacy of the scene stirred the reporters nearby. One after another, they raised their cameras, snapping away furiously.

Amid the chaos, Henry—unnoticed—pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and calmly wiped his tears. Then, without a sound, he shifted slightly to the side, slipping away from Sophie's hands, which rested near his ears.

"What are you doing? You need to leave—now!"

The photographers were still immersed in their frenzy when the hospital security guards, having just received a call, rushed in with urgency.

Startled, the reporters quickly packed up their gear and dispersed in all directions like startled birds.

With the crowd dispersing, Silas's tightly furrowed brow finally began to relax. The darkness in his expression eased. He put one arm around Sophie, the other hand clasping Henry's, and said in a low voice, "Let's go, before anyone notices."

"Okay."

Sophie nodded quickly, pulled a pair of black sunglasses from her bag, and nestled closer into his embrace as they made a swift exit.

In the confusion of the crowd, Harper managed to struggle to her feet. Her trembling hands braced against the stark white wall. Warm blood seeped from her temple, blurring her vision and staining her white dress.

Her mind was hazy. A high-pitched ringing filled her ears. Through the blur of red and sound, she fixed her gaze on Silas's figure as he shielded Sophie and Henry, disappearing down the corridor. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed.

"Doctor! Someone just fainted!"

"Oh my God—her head's bleeding!"

The bystanders who had just begun to leave turned around at the cries. Seeing Harper's bloodied face and crumpled figure on the ground, they called out in panic.

When he heard the commotion behind him, Silas's polished shoes came to an abrupt stop. A sudden unease rose inexplicably in his chest.

Noticing his pause, Sophie instinctively furrowed her brow. She blinked her tear-filled eyes and asked gently, "Silas? What's wrong?"

"I…"

Sophie's coughing interrupted him. She winced, clutching her chest. Her face turned even paler, like a sheet of rice paper.

"Sophie, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick?"

His eyes narrowed in alarm. At the sound of her coughing, his brows drew together again. He raised his hand and began patting her back lightly, helping her catch her breath.

"I'm… I'm okay," she whispered. "It's probably just the cold weather. I might be coming down with something. A little hot water should help."

"Really? Maybe we should get you checked out."

His lips had tightened into a thin line, worry clouding his dark eyes. He was already turning, preparing to take her back inside.

"No, really. There's no need."

She reached for his hand, her face flushed. The warmth of his skin comforted her.

"I'm used to this," she said softly. "Back when I was abroad, I'd just take medicine when I got sick. It's always worked. Silas, thank you for caring. But the reporters probably haven't all left yet. We can't go back in now."

She bit her lip, her slender fingers gently tracing the lines of his knuckles. Her gaze didn't waver, eyes glimmering with a silent plea.

His body stiffened slightly. He looked down at his right hand, tightly held in hers. Beneath the white shirt, his chest rose and fell more quickly.

"…Alright. I'll take you home first."

He slowly withdrew his hand. Feeling the lingering warmth on his palm, he unconsciously curled it into a fist, then gradually let it go. Finally, he lifted the corner of his lips and shook off the unease in his heart.

Someone like Harper—who hated noise and crowds—would never have followed the commotion and shown up here. It just wasn't like her.

…

Harper was woken by the familiar scent of disinfectant.

She forced her eyes open, squinting against the harsh white light overhead, only to shut them again almost immediately. After a few seconds, once the brightness no longer stung, she opened them once more.

Her eyes wavered slightly as she stared at the plain white ceiling, trying to retrace the events of the day.

Suddenly, a familiar ringtone broke the silence.

Instinctively, she reached toward the phone on the blue nightstand, but the motion tugged at the wound near her temple. A sharp pain made her suck in a breath.

The room was quiet but for the shrill ringing, which only grew more piercing. Her brows furrowed slightly. With a long breath, she shifted her body gently, picked up the phone, and answered.

"Harper, why did it take you so long to pick up? Do you know how worried I've been? Where are you now? Come to Colby's bar—quickly. It's opening night. Don't tell me you forgot."

The voice came through as soon as the call connected—frustrated, almost scolding.

Beneath her feathered lashes, Harper's pupils flickered. Her fingers gripped the phone tightly, the knuckles faintly whitening. She lay on the hospital bed, lips pressed into a thin line, her pale face unreadable and cold.

"Harper, are you listening?"

The silence on the other end made Silas's heart skip a beat. He licked his lips unconsciously, a flicker of guilt glinting in his dark eyes.

"What happened at the hospital today—it was my fault. Just come over, okay? Let me explain in person."

Harper's left hand, resting on her stomach, clenched the white blanket tightly. She drew in a long breath, holding back the tide within, then said in a hoarse voice, "I'm hanging up."

…

After leaving the hospital, Harper went home to change out of her bloodstained clothes. She picked up the gift she'd prepared in advance for Colby's new bar opening and hailed a cab to Yoshi's Den.

Half an hour later, she arrived at the entrance, dressed in a white tracksuit and carrying a blue paper bag with the present inside.

Colby, who had been waiting outside, spotted her immediately. He tossed his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and crushed it underfoot, hurrying over.

"Harper, you're finally here!"

He paused, eyes sweeping over her outfit. "Are you trying out a new look today? What's with the tracksuit?"

There was a flicker of surprise in his brown eyes—this was a far cry from her usual style. But he grinned and added, "Still, you're gorgeous no matter what you wear. Come on, let's head inside."

He turned and led the way toward the private room.

At the door, Colby peeked through the frosted glass, then leaned close to her and lowered his voice. "Harper, you know today's a big day for me. No matter what happens later, just try to—"

"Harper, you're finally here!"

Before he could finish, the door swung open from the inside.

Standing there was Sophie in a black camisole dress, makeup meticulously done, a bright smile lighting up her face.