The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor echoed faintly in the hospital and the only movement came from the steady rise and fall of Jeff's chest under the pale blue sheets.
Jenn sat at his bedside, fingers laced around his limp hand. She'd been there all night — eyes red, heart weary. Every so often, a nurse would come in to check his vitals, speak softly, and leave again. But nothing changed.
He still hadn't woken up.
Her thumb brushed gently over his skin. "You have to wake up," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You can't just leave me hanging like this, Jeff. Not after everything."
Tears burned her eyes again. She blinked them away, trying to stay strong, but the sight of him — still, pale, unresponsive — shattered her every time she looked at him.
Carlos sat quietly on the chair across from her, his head bowed, hands clasped tightly together. He looked like he hadn't slept either.
"He's stable," Carlos murmured, as if trying to convince both of them. "The doctor said his vitals are good. That's something."
Jenn nodded weakly, though she barely heard him. Her mind kept looping through the last few days — the fight, the silence, the text she never replied to. If only she had answered. If only she had called.
The guilt pressed down on her chest like a weight she couldn't escape.
Hours passed like that. Silence, tears, and the soft beeping sound that reminded her Jeff was still there — even if he couldn't say anything.
When the clock struck noon, Carlos gently touched her shoulder. "You should go home for a bit. Rest, take a bath, eat something. I'll stay here and call you if there's any change."
Jenn hesitated. "I don't want to leave him."
"I know," he said softly. "But he'd hate to see you like this — worn out."
Jenn finally nodded. She brushed her fingers against Jeff's cheek one more time. "Please wake up soon," she whispered.
Then she stood and walked slowly out of the room. Every step away from him felt heavier than the last.
⸻
Outside, the day was bright — painfully bright. The world kept moving as if nothing had happened. Jenn clutched her bag tightly as she got into a cab, her thoughts still spinning around Jeff's pale face.
By the time she reached home, her body ached from exhaustion. Lucy was the first to meet her at the door, worry all over her small face.
"Jenn!" Lucy ran up to her and hugged her waist. "Is Jeff okay now?"
Jenn knelt a little and forced a small smile. "He's still sleeping, sweetheart. But he's going to be okay."
Lucy's eyes glistened. "You promise?"
Jenn nodded. "I promise."
For a moment, Lucy was quiet. Then she said softly, "Alden's been sad too. I saw him last night sitting outside by the pool. He didn't even say hi. You should check on him."
Jenn blinked. "Alden?"
"Mm-hm." Lucy nodded earnestly. "He looked like he wanted to cry but didn't want anyone to see."
Jenn smiled faintly and stroked her hair. "You notice everything, don't you?"
Lucy giggled a little. "Only when I care."
Jenn hugged her tightly. "Thank you, baby. You always know how to make me feel better."
Lucy smiled and pulled away. "Promise me you'll eat something, okay?"
"I will."
Jenn watched as Lucy followed one of the maids toward the car. They were heading out to visit a relative for the weekend. Lucy waved from the window before they drove off, leaving Jenn alone in the quiet house.
She stood in the middle of the hallway for a while, unsure what to do next. The silence around her only made her thoughts louder — Jeff's voice, his laughter, his last words to her.
Without thinking too much, she grabbed her cardigan and made her way to Alden's side of the house.
⸻
The sound of music hummed faintly from inside Alden's room — slow, almost melancholic. Jenn hesitated before knocking softly.
The music stopped. A moment later, Alden opened the door.
He looked tired — dark circles under his eyes, hair slightly messy, but his expression softened immediately when he saw her. "Hey," he said quietly. "You came."
Jenn nodded. "Lucy told me you were… quiet."
Alden gave a short, dry chuckle and stepped aside for her to enter. "Lucy notices everything, doesn't she?"
"She does," Jenn replied softly, walking in.
The room was dimly lit, sunlight slipping through half-closed blinds. A sketchbook lay open on the desk, half-finished drawings scattered beside it — she could see rough sketches of scenery, maybe that field they once went to.
Jenn sat on the couch, clasping her hands together. "I just wanted to check on you. It's been… a lot lately."
Alden leaned against the table, watching her carefully. "I should be asking you that. I heard about Jeff. Carlos told me."
Jenn looked down. "He still hasn't woken up."
Alden's chest tightened. "I'm sorry."
She nodded, her voice small. "It's just hard, you know? We had all this distance, all this confusion — and now that I want to fix things, I don't even know if I'll get the chance."
Alden moved closer, crouching slightly so his eyes met hers. "You care about him a lot."
Jenn hesitated before answering. "Yeah… I do."
The words hurt Alden more than he wanted to admit. But he masked it with a faint smile. "Then don't lose hope yet. Jeff's stubborn — he'll fight his way back."
Jenn gave a weak smile. "You sound like you believe that."
"I do," he said honestly. "He loves you too much not to."
Her gaze softened. "You always know what to say."
He chuckled quietly. "I try."
For a long moment, they sat in silence. Jenn's eyes wandered around the room — the sketchbook, the guitar in the corner, the open window. Everything about Alden's space felt warm, but she could sense something hidden beneath it — the quiet sadness he tried so hard to hide.
When she finally stood to leave, he rose too. "If you need anything — anything at all — you can call me," he said.
Jenn nodded. "I know. Thank you."
Their eyes lingered for a second longer before she turned and walked out.
As the door closed behind her, Alden sat back down, running a hand through his hair. The silence hit him harder this time. He looked toward the sketchbook on his desk and flipped it open.
There was a half-drawn portrait of Jenn — smiling faintly, her hair brushing across her face.
He traced the lines with his pencil, exhaling slowly. "I can't snatch her away now," he muttered to himself. "Not when she's breaking for someone else."
But deep down, the ache of wanting her — the quiet, helpless kind — refused to fade.
He sat there until the evening light turned gold, lost in thoughts he couldn't share.
⸻
Meanwhile, back at the hospital, the day moved slowly. Jenn returned just before sunset, exhaustion weighing on her but hope still burning quietly in her chest.
Carlos stood outside Jeff's room, his eyes tired but gentle when he saw her. "You came back."
"I couldn't stay home," Jenn admitted.
He gave a small nod. "Still no change. But the doctors said his condition is stable — that's good news."
Jenn walked in quietly. Jeff lay just as she'd left him — still, peaceful, yet distant. She took her seat beside him and reached for his hand again.
"Hey," she whispered softly, her voice trembling. "It's me again. You probably hate that I keep talking, but I'll stop when you wake up. Not before."
Her fingers brushed across his, her tears falling freely now. "You promised you wouldn't leave me halfway. So don't you dare break that too."
Carlos stood at the doorway, watching silently. For the first time, he saw the raw pain behind Jenn's calm — and he understood why Jeff had fallen so hard for her.
Jenn stayed until the nurses insisted she rest. She refused at first, then agreed to sit quietly in the waiting area, her head leaning against the wall.
She didn't notice when her eyes closed — or when Carlos draped his jacket over her shoulders.
Inside the room, Jeff's monitor beeped softly, steady and strong.
And somewhere deep within the silence — a faint twitch, the smallest movement of his fingers — began to stir.