Leena ran toward the elevator.
Fast.
Too fast.
Her steps echoed against the empty corridor.
But inside her mind—
everything was collapsing.
A flash.
Darkness.
Then—
that night.
The rooftop.
Richie.
His grip.
The suffocating fear.
Her body trembled mid-step.
Her breathing became uneven.
"Not… again…"
she murmured under her breath.
Her legs slowed.
Shaky.
Unstable.
Her hand pressed lightly against the wall as she tried to steady herself.
But her vision—
blurred.
A sharp pressure built in her head.
A familiar heaviness.
Her fingers tightened.
She blinked.
Once.
Twice.
But the world didn't clear.
It darkened.
"…not again…"
Her voice broke into a whisper.
And then—
her knees gave out.
She collapsed.
Just two steps away from the elevator.
Still.
Unconscious.
Sami was still standing near the parking area.
His breathing was uneven.
His anger—
slowly fading.
Then—
he heard it.
A sound.
Faint.
He turned.
And saw her.
Leena.
Collapsed on the ground.
For a moment—
time froze.
Then—
everything hit him at once.
The argument.
His grip.
Her struggle.
The moment she went still.
His control—
shattered.
"Leena—!"
He ran.
Fast.
Dropping to his knees beside her.
"Leena—wake up."
He shook her shoulder gently at first.
Then again.
More urgent.
But she didn't respond.
No movement.
No reaction.
His breath quickened.
"Hey—hey, look at me."
Nothing.
A car entered the parking area.
A man stepped out.
He saw the scene immediately.
"What happened?" he asked.
Sami didn't even look up.
His focus was on Leena.
"She fainted," he said sharply, voice tense.
Without waiting—
Sami carefully lifted her into his arms.
Protective.
Fast.
And without hesitation—
he moved toward his car.
The man followed briefly but stopped.
Sami didn't wait.
Didn't ask.
Didn't call for help.
He just drove.
Fast.
The doors of the emergency ward burst open.
"Doctor—!"
Sami's voice cut through the hospital noise.
"I need a doctor—now!"
He was holding Leena in his arms.
Still unconscious.
Doctors and nurses rushed toward him.
They took her immediately.
Placed her on the stretcher.
Started checking her vitals.
Sami stood there.
Hands trembling slightly.
Watching.
Helpless.
He paced the hospital corridor.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
His mind wouldn't stop replaying it.
His grip.
Her struggle.
Her fall.
His jaw clenched.
He ran a hand through his hair.
Once.
Twice.
The weight of it—
was crushing him.
After what felt like forever—
the doctor came out.
Sami stopped instantly.
"What happened?" he asked.
The doctor spoke calmly.
"She's stable."
Sami let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
"But," the doctor continued,
"she fainted due to extreme stress and physical exhaustion."
Sami froze.
"Her body reacted to pressure," the doctor added.
Sami's eyes lowered slightly.
"…Is she okay?" he asked.
The doctor nodded.
"Yes. She just needs rest. She will regain consciousness soon."
Relief.
But not enough to erase what he felt.
Sami walked back into the room.
Quietly.
Leena lay there.
Still.
But breathing.
Stable.
He stood beside her for a moment.
Just looking at her.
Then slowly—
he sat down next to her bed.
His head bowed slightly.
His hands resting together.
Silent.
Regret.
Heavy.
Real.
He didn't speak.
Because for the first time—
Sami realized something.
This wasn't just anger.
This wasn't just a mistake.
This was something that could have gone very wrong.
And the worst part?
He was the one who caused it.
Light.
Too bright.
Too white.
Leena's eyes fluttered open slowly.
The ceiling above her blurred… then sharpened.
A dull heaviness pressed behind her eyes.
Her breathing was slow.
Uneven.
She moved her head slightly.
And then—
she saw him.
Sami.
Sitting beside the bed.
Head lowered.
One hand resting on the edge of the mattress.
Still.
Silent.
As if he hadn't moved at all.
Leena didn't speak.
Her fingers shifted slightly against the bedsheet.
A small movement.
But enough.
Sami noticed.
His head lifted immediately.
His eyes found her.
Relief flickered—
just for a second.
Then disappeared.
Silence.
Thick.
Heavy.
Leena tried to sit up.
Her body resisted.
A sharp strain pulled through her head.
She winced slightly.
Sami stood up instinctively.
Moved closer.
His hand reaching toward her shoulder—
And then—
she raised her hand.
Not touching him.
Just stopping him.
"Don't."
One word.
Quiet.
Clear.
Sami froze.
His hand still in the air for a second—
before he slowly pulled it back.
Leena sat up on her own.
Slow.
Controlled.
Even if it hurt.
Sami sat back down.
Said nothing.
A nurse entered.
Breaking the silence.
"You're awake," she said gently.
Leena nodded faintly.
"I'm feeling better… can I go now?"
"We'll call the doctor," the nurse replied.
"Where am I?" Leena asked.
"City hospital."
A small pause.
Leena nodded again.
The nurse left.
Silence returned.
Sami inhaled slowly.
"…sorry—"
"Don't."
Leena cut him off again.
This time—
without even looking at him.
A beat.
Then she turned her head.
Looked at him.
Her eyes steady.
Unreadable.
"If I tell someone what happened…"
she said quietly,
"do you think they would believe me?"
Sami didn't answer.
"Because you don't even believe it yourself," she continued.
"That someone like you could do something like that."
Her gaze held his.
Sharp.
Precise.
"I think you should leave."
No anger.
No shouting.
Just—
final.
Sami looked at her for a long second.
Something in his expression shifted.
Then—
he stood.
And walked out.
The hospital corridor felt colder than before.
He didn't stop.
Didn't look back.
Just kept walking—
until he reached the lobby.
And waited.
Inside the room—
the doctor arrived.
He examined Leena quickly.
Checked her pulse.
Her eyes.
Her response.
"I'd prefer you take a few tests," he said.
"I'm fine," Leena replied.
Calm.
Firm.
A pause.
"Can I go now?"
The doctor studied her briefly.
Then nodded.
"Alright. But take care of yourself."
Leena gave a small nod.
She got off the bed.
Barefoot.
Cold floor beneath her feet.
Real.
Grounding.
And then—
she walked out.
Sami was still there.
Waiting.
He saw her.
The moment she stepped into the lobby.
Walking.
Barefoot.
Alone.
He moved toward her.
"Leena—"
She didn't stop.
"You're not well yet," he said.
"I'll drive you home."
She kept walking.
"You don't need to," she replied.
Simple.
Distant.
And she walked past him.
Out of the hospital.
Rain.
Heavy.
Relentless.
The city blurred under it.
Lights smearing across wet roads.
Leena stepped into the rain without hesitation.
Bare feet against the cold ground.
Water soaking into her clothes.
Hair clinging to her face.
She kept walking.
Sami followed.
Not close.
But not far either.
Just enough to see her.
Just enough to not lose her.
The rain grew heavier.
He quickened his pace.
Moved ahead.
Stopped in front of her.
Blocking her path.
Both of them soaked now.
Water dripping from his hair.
Her lashes heavy with rain.
"You'll get sick," he said.
His voice lower now.
Not commanding.
Not sharp.
Just… real.
"Please."
A pause.
"If you don't want to come with me…"
he added,
"I'll book a cab."
Leena slowly lifted her gaze.
Met his eyes.
Rain running down her face—
but her expression unchanged.
"I'd rather walk."
A beat.
Something in Sami's jaw tightened.
Not anger.
Something else.
He took off his coat.
Stepped closer.
And placed it over her shoulders.
She didn't stop him.
Didn't thank him either.
Just stood there.
For a moment—
they were too close again.
But this time—
no force.
No anger.
Just distance that couldn't be crossed.
Sami stepped back.
Raised his hand.
Stopped a taxi.
Opened the door.
Said nothing.
Leena looked at the cab.
Then at him.
For a second—
something flickered in her eyes.
Then it was gone.
She got in.
The door closed.
The taxi drove away.
The taxi pulled away from the hospital.
I didn't think.
I didn't stop.
I just started the car—
and followed.
Not too close.
Never too far.
The rain hadn't slowed.
If anything—
it felt heavier now.
Like the city was drowning in it.
Through the blurred windshield—
I could see her.
Just a shadow in the back seat.
Still.
Silent.
She didn't move once.
My grip tightened on the steering wheel.
Again.
And again.
The taxi turned into her building.
Slowed.
Stopped.
I stopped a few meters behind.
Engine still running.
Watching.
She stepped out.
Soaked.
Completely.
Her hair clung to her face and neck,
dark strands stuck to her skin.
Her dress—
heavy with rain—
pressed against her frame.
My coat still hung over her shoulders.
Drenched.
Loose.
Too big.
She didn't fix it.
Didn't adjust anything.
She just walked.
Barefoot.
That—
again.
I followed slowly into the parking.
She reached the spot.
The same place.
My eyes locked onto her movements.
She bent down.
Picked up her purse.
Then her heels.
One in each hand.
She paused for a second.
Barely noticeable.
Then stood up again.
And walked toward the elevator.
The doors opened.
She stepped inside.
And just before they closed—
her head lifted slightly.
Not toward me.
Not fully.
Just enough—
to breathe.
Then—
gone.
I parked.
Turned off the engine.
Silence rushed in.
I stepped out.
Walked to the elevator.
The ride up felt longer than it should.
Every second stretching—
tight.
Uncomfortable.
The doors opened.
And she was there.
Standing in front of her door.
My coat slipped off her shoulders—
into her hand.
Water dripped from her hair—
from her clothes—
onto the tiles below.
Her feet still bare.
She didn't turn.
Didn't look back.
She unlocked the door.
Stepped inside.
And disappeared.
The door closed.
Soft.
Final.
I stood there.
My eyes dropped.
The floor.
Water.
A trail.
From the elevator—
to her door.
Each step she took—
left behind.
Without knowing.
Without caring.
Because she had nothing left to hold on to.
My jaw tightened.
And then—
my eyes shifted.
My coat.
Still in her hand—
no.
She had dropped it.
Just inside the door—
but part of it had slipped out.
Caught near the edge.
Without thinking—
I stepped forward.
Reached down.
Picked it up.
The fabric still warm—
faintly.
Still carrying her.
For a moment—
I just held it.
Then—
I looked at the door.
Closed.
Silent.
My hand lifted.
Knuckles inches away from the wood.
I could knock.
Just one sound.
And maybe—
she would open it.
Maybe I could say something.
Anything.
Sorry.
The word sat heavy in my chest.
My fingers tightened.
But—
they didn't move.
Because something stopped me.
Not hesitation.
Not pride.
Something worse.
Guilt.
The kind that doesn't let you fix things.
The kind that tells you—
you don't deserve to.
My hand slowly lowered.
My forehead rested against the door.
Cold wood.
Still.
For a second—
just one—
I wanted to stay there.
Slide down.
Sit on the floor.
Apologize—
not in words—
but in something real.
Something broken.
But I didn't.
I pushed myself back.
Forced distance.
From the door.
From her.
From what I did.
I turned.
Walked to my apartment.
Each step heavier than before.
I unlocked the door.
Stepped inside.
Closed it behind me.
And for the first time—
the silence didn't feel empty.
It felt deserved.
she was there.
And I knew—
I was the reason she wouldn't open that door.