(Rose's POV)
The room was quiet… too quiet.
My head felt heavy, like I had slept under a mountain. My fingers twitched against the soft hospital sheets, and the sterile scent filled my nostrils. I blinked slowly—light stung my eyes, but it was soft, dimmed like someone had thought ahead for me.
Someone…
My eyes adjusted.
A shadow stood at the far end of the room.
I didn't panic.
I just stared.
My throat was too dry for words, but my mind was already racing, trying to piece together where I was. The ceiling was white. Too clean. The walls—too smooth. No damp, no flickering bulbs. Not that cursed place.
I was in a hospital.
I was safe.
Maybe.
The shadow moved.
I tensed, back pressing against the pillows, every inch of me aching but alert.
Then he stepped into the light.
Julian.
I blinked again, harder this time, like I couldn't believe it.
"Y-You're here?" My voice cracked.
He didn't say anything at first—just gave me that unreadable look. Cold and calm on the surface, but I could feel the heat of something buried beneath.
But then—like a match was struck inside my memory—I gasped.
"No—Julian! Bullet—he—he's dangerous! You can't—he'll come after you—he's not done!"
He crossed the room in two long strides and pressed a hand to my shoulder gently, calming me like one would an untamed thing.
"I know," he said. "But you're safe. And so am I."
I blinked at him again, breathing shallow, still trying to make sense of everything. My body ached, but I didn't care. Not with Julian here. Not when he said it like that, low and sure, like nothing could touch us if he didn't allow it.
I let the words sink in. Let myself believe them.
For now.
"How long… was I out?" I asked softly, unsure if I even wanted the answer.
He stared at me, face unreadable as always. "Three days."
My heart dropped.
"Three—?" My eyes widened, and I tried to sit up more, but he was already adjusting the pillows behind me with practiced ease. That's when he hit me with it.
"The doctor says you're weak," he said flatly. "Can't handle the stress. Needs rest, even when you're awake."
Ouch.
I froze, lips parting slightly in embarrassment.
Silence stretched between us again. And just when I was about to say something, the door opened.
A nurse stepped in and gasped lightly when she saw me awake. "Oh! You're up!"
She turned around immediately. "I'll call the doctor!"
Julian straightened, eyes still on me. I glanced at him, not sure what I expected him to say. Maybe a 'see you later' or some kind of smile or… anything.
But all he said was, "I'm leaving."
And just like that, he turned and walked out.
Gone.
Again.
Just unreadable.
The doctor came in moments later with the nurse, eyes sharp but kind. "You woke up just in time," he said. "Whoever was with you just stepped out."
I swallowed and nodded.
"Doctor… when can I leave?" I asked, barely waiting for him to finish his check.
He hummed, checking my vitals, eyes scanning every little beep and number. "You're healing fast. You could technically leave tomorrow, but I strongly advise staying the week. Full recovery's important. You've been through a lot."
I shook my head. "Tomorrow," I said firmly. "I… I need to see my brother."
He studied me for a moment, then sighed. "Alright. But I'll send the nurse with discharge forms in the morning."
I gave a small nod, heart already racing at the thought of home.
"Your boyfriend's been keeping night watch every single day, by the way," the doctor added casually as he packed up. "And another man with yellow-dyed hair stayed with you through every daylight hour. Very loyal pair."
The nurse smiled as she followed him out.
I blinked.
Boyfriend?
I turned my head slowly, confused.
Then… I remembered the man who just left.
Julian.
My cheeks turned pink again—traitors. My thoughts flashed back to that night… the way he held me, touched me.
I hadn't even realized I was smiling a little until I caught myself.
Ugh, stop it, Rose.
And then it hit me—the yellow hair.
Daniel.
My heart twisted painfully.
I could already imagine the look on his face. The way his voice must've cracked when he found out I was missing. The way he probably hadn't slept in days.
I buried my face in the pillow.
"I'm sorry, Danny…"
And for the first time since I woke up, I felt the sting of tears—not from pain. Not from fear.
But from knowing my brother had been sitting there, waiting. Worrying. And I hadn't even been able to tell him I was okay.