The world around her is a blur of quiet hums and whispers of a familiar voice. A faint scent of antiseptic, the distant tick of a clock, the soft, rhythmic sound of someone breathing beside her. It isn't a dream. But it felt like one. It isn't the dark, endless quiet she has been drifting in for days. Something feels… different.
The warmth of a hand enclosing hers anchors her. It's firm, steady, protective fingers rough at the edges but gentle in the way they hold her, as though afraid she might slip away.
Her body is still heavy, but her heart stirs. There's something weighty in the room, not oppressive. There is some kind of emotion. Through the haze, she hears it as a low murmur, a voice breaking through the stillness like the softest storm.
"I'll be back," The voice cracks slightly at the end, a breath shivering against her skin. She knows that voice. Even half-asleep, she could recognize it anywhere.
It's Kai. Her chest tightens, the sound echoing through her as if her heart remembers before her mind does.
She wants to answer. To open her eyes. Hold him and tell him not to go. But her body refuses to move. All she can do is feel. His thumb grazes her knuckles, tracing invisible circles, each touch filled with something unsaid. His breath brushes the side of her wrist slowly, unevenly, and she almost feels him breathe for her too.
Her pulse steadies under his hand, and for a moment, it feels like the world stops. Then his warmth shifts. The bed dips slightly, the sound of fabric brushing as he leans forward. His forehead almost touches the back of her hand.
She hears him exhale a long, trembling sound, heavy with all the words he never says. Then silence. Then footsteps. And then… nothing. The quiet stretches again. Only this time, it's lighter. The weight of his presence still lingers in the air, like the echo of a heartbeat against the walls.
Minutes or hours, she doesn't know, but something inside her stirs. Her lashes flutter. Her throat burns. A faint ache moves through her temples. Her fingers twitch first, then her lips part to release a shallow breath.
Her body feels foreign, light and heavy at once, but somewhere deep inside, she knows she's waking. A voice cuts through the stillness. Old, warm, trembling.
"Alina…?" It's soft at first. Then louder. Closer.
"Alina, my child…"
Her eyes open slowly, blinking against the blur of morning light. The ceiling comes into focus, white, unfamiliar. Her gaze shifts sideways. A figure leans over her wrinkled eyes, glistening, lips trembling with disbelief.
"Granny?" Her voice is hoarse, barely audible.
The old woman's hands fly to her mouth. "Oh, God!" she gasps, her tears spilling instantly. "You're awake… my little girl, you're awake!"
Before Alina can react, Granny gathers her in a trembling embrace, careful yet desperate, her frail arms shaking as if afraid Alina might vanish again. Alina blinks, confused, her head spinning slightly.
"Granny… where am I?" she murmurs, voice thin with fatigue. The room doesn't look familiar. The air smells different, clean, faintly scented with his cologne. This isn't her room.
Granny pulls back just enough to cup her face. "You gave us such a fright, child. You were so weak. So cold. I thought," Her voice breaks. "I thought we lost you."
Tears sting Alina's eyes, though she doesn't know why. We? She is confused why Granny keeps mentioning we? Isn't Granny alone? Then why is she saying We? "I… don't remember anything."
Granny wipes her cheeks with trembling fingers. "Shh, don't talk much. I'll call the doctor."
Alina wants to protest, but Granny is already gone, hurrying to the door faster than her frail frame should allow. Moments later, footsteps return. A man in a white coat enters, stethoscope swinging gently as he smiles.
"Well, well," he says, cheerful but cautious. "Finally awake, hm? You scared everyone here, Miss Alina."
She blinks at him. "How long…"
"Four days," he replies softly, checking her pulse. "You've been asleep for almost four days. Your body was just exhausted. You'll be fine, just a bit of weakness. Eat, rest, and no stress."
Four days. The words echo in her mind like bells underwater. Four days have passed, but she doesn't remember. How could four days have slipped just like that?
Granny helps her sit up slowly, placing a cushion behind her back. The doctor scribbles something in his pad, smiling kindly before leaving. The room falls quiet again.
Sunlight filters through the curtains, spreading golden light over the floor. Alina sits still, her fingers playing absently with the edge of the blanket. Her head turns, taking in her surroundings, the muted colors, the scent of sandalwood. Her heart stutters. This isn't her room.
"This isn't…" she whispers, almost to herself. "Why am I here? This isn't my room."
Granny looks at her from the armchair near the bed, her face calm but her eyes too knowing.
Alina turns toward her. "Granny, how did I get here?"
Granny doesn't answer immediately. She pours water into a glass instead, the sound of the pour steady and unhurried.
"Drink," she says simply, handing it over.
Alina takes it with shaky hands. "Granny, please… tell me. How long have I been here? Why am I in his bed?" The questions spill out of her like a flood she can't stop. Her voice trembles between confusion and a strange kind of dread.
Granny sighs, sinking slowly into the chair again. Her eyes soften, but there's something unreadable in them like she's holding onto a truth too tender to say.
"You'd better ask him, not me," she says finally.
"Him?" Alina frowns, setting the glass down. "Who?"
Granny's lips curve slightly, her tone turning lighter, almost teasing. "Your roommate," she says, eyes glinting faintly with amusement. "The one who looked after you like you were the last thing keeping him alive."
The words hang in the air. Alina stares at her, unsure what to say. Roommate? Her heart beats a little faster. Was that real? Or part of a dream? She doesn't know anymore. Or it can be said that she doesn't want to believe. Her unknown roommate? Why would he take care of me?
Granny watches her, eyes narrowing gently as if reading her silence. "That boy… the way he's been sitting beside you all these days, he didn't move, didn't eat. Just sat there holding your hand like his whole world would stop if he let go."
She remembers fragments of warmth, a voice whispering "I'll be back," the soft pressure of hands around hers. Her breath catches, and her lips part, but no sound comes out. Alina looks down at her hands, her pulse quickening under her skin. Her fingers still remember the shape of his.
Granny's voice softens. "You know, my child, there are people who speak love. And then some people show it quietly, without saying a word, that boy doesn't talk much. But his silence said enough."
Alina's throat tightens. She stares at the blanket, the edges of it blurred through her unshed tears.
Outside, birds chirp faintly, their sound distant yet grounding. The morning light shifts, glancing off the mirror on the opposite wall, and for a moment, she sees his reflection there. Not real, not present, just memory. His posture, the stillness, the quiet intensity. The way he just sat near her when he thought she wasn't watching. She didn't see his face, but the familiarity? Like she knows him, she presses her lips together. It's too much. Too strange. Too real.
Granny breaks the silence again, her voice lower this time. "He was so scared, Alina. He wouldn't let anyone else near you. Not even the nurses check twice. You should've seen him, that strong man looked like a child afraid of losing his favorite thing in the world."
There was a long pause; it was heavy, but not uncomfortable.
Then Granny chuckles softly. "You know, Today when he asked me to stay with you while he went out for something urgent, he looked like a lost boy asking his mother for help. Said he'd be back soon. Said he'd made sure you'd never be alone."
She looks around the room once more. Trying to ignore what Granny was saying. The faint smell of perfume lingers in the air. There was a jacket draped over the chair. Books lie half-open on the table, a pen resting across their pages. Every inch of this space breathes warmth.
Her gaze falls back to the bed to the faint crease on the other side, where he must've sat for hours. Her fingers reach out unconsciously, brushing that spot, as if she could still feel the warmth he left behind. She closes her eyes, exhaling softly. No matter how much she tried to ignore the words of Granny, what she couldn't ignore was the feeling of warmth.
Her lips tremble when she finally whispers, "He stayed?"
Granny smiles faintly. "He never left."
The rest of the morning drifts by quietly. Granny insists she eats a little, fussing over her like she's five again. Alina tries to listen, to smile, but her thoughts keep wandering to him, to the silence that had once felt suffocating and now feels like home. This is why she wanted to come home. The feeling of being at home, and finally, she is getting it.
When Granny steps out to call Kai for updates, Alina lets her head rest against the pillow. Her body is still weak, but her mind refuses to rest. Her fingers curl slightly against the sheets, remembering the warmth that had once been there, his warmth.
And though she doesn't say it aloud, her heart knows it clearly that he had been there all along, and even in silence, she had felt him.