Chapter 191: Hospital

Chapter 191: Hospital

Aviah's POV

The smell of disinfectant crept into my nostrils, making the tip of my nose sting.

Mason lay on the hospital bed, his bangs stuck to his forehead with dried blood, thick gauze wrapped around the back of his head, red stains seeping through and spreading across the white fabric.

The monitor beeped rhythmically. I sat on the plastic chair beside the bed, my fingertips unconsciously rubbing along the seam of my pants.

My mind churned with scenes from before—Mason's smiling face as he fell, the glass shards stuck in the back of his head, Dennis's bloodshot eyes, and Lila's cold words: "We're not friends anymore."

My head was a mess. I shook it hard, trying to drive these thoughts away.

I leaned closer to the bed, staring at Mason's features.

Exactly like Kevin in my memory—even the slight furrow of his brows while sleeping was identical.

How did he escape from that fire all those years ago?

The monitor suddenly beeped more urgently. I straightened up immediately. Mason's eyelids trembled slightly, as if struggling to wake up.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. The screen lit up—a message from Griffin: [Where are you?]

My finger swiped across the screen, quickly replying: [Just finished washing the kids' clothes, about to sleep. Let's talk tomorrow if something's up.]

The sent notification popped up. I placed the phone face-down on the corner of the table.

This whole thing was too complicated, involving too many people. Once I started explaining, I'd have to talk about the coffee at the Allen family's, about Dwayne's death, and explain Mason's identity. I didn't feel like explaining.

"Ma'am." A nurse's voice came from the doorway.

I stood up and followed her out of the room. The hallway lights were harsh white, making the walls look cold. The doctor stood at the end holding a medical chart, his brow furrowed. "The patient has a small amount of bleeding in his brain, and we've also found signs of blood clot blockage. We need to operate immediately."

My heart sank. "That's impossible. His head didn't hit the ground."

As I said this, I became uncertain. Everything had happened so fast, so suddenly. Whether it had or hadn't, I couldn't be sure.

"The surgery has two risks." The doctor ignored my words, opening the chart and pointing at the diagnosis. "First, he might not wake up after surgery. Second, if he does wake up, he could have memory loss or even impaired cognitive function."

I bit my lower lip, my nails digging into my palms.

Mason had a blood clot in his brain—could it be from that fire years ago? Maybe during his escape, he injured his head, which caused the memory loss?

Very possible.

"I'll sign." I took the pen. The tip paused on the paper before I wrote my name.

The nurse took the surgical consent form and turned to prepare the operating room.

I leaned against the hallway wall, staring at the closed hospital room door, suddenly feeling drained of all strength.

"What are you doing here?"

A familiar voice came from behind me, carrying an unmistakable deep tone. My whole body stiffened. I slowly turned around.

Griffin stood at the end of the hallway, his black suit jacket draped over his arm, his shirt collar slightly open.

His gaze swept over my pant legs, over my sleeves stained with alcohol, and his brow immediately furrowed.

"Didn't you say you were sleeping at home?" He walked closer step by step, his footsteps making dull sounds on the floor.

I instinctively stepped back half a step, my back pressing against the cold wall. "How did you get here?"

"Your car is parked in the hospital parking lot." He reached out, his fingertips brushing my cheek with a cool touch. "I went home and didn't see you. Edna said you never came back tonight."

I turned my face away, not wanting him to see my reddened eyes.

But he gently gripped my chin, forcing me to look up.

His eyes were deep, without reproach, only thick concern that couldn't be dissolved.

"It's okay now." He pulled me into his arms, his palm stroking my back with gentle movements. "I've already arranged everything. The best neurosurgeon is coming right now."

I leaned against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, and my tense nerves suddenly relaxed. Tears fell uncontrollably, soaking his shirt.

"He's Kevin." I choked out the words, my voice muffled. "It's really him. He didn't die."

Griffin's movements paused, then he patted my back. "I know."

I looked up at him sharply. "You knew all along?"

"The first day he showed up, I found out." He looked down, his thumb wiping the tears from my cheek. "I just didn't tell you. I was afraid you'd overthink it."

The operating room light suddenly turned on. A nurse came out. "The patient can go into surgery now."

Griffin helped me stand straight, his gaze turning toward the hospital room. "Don't worry, it'll be fine."

Medical staff pushed the bed toward the operating room. Mason still had his eyes closed, his face pale. I followed for a couple of steps before Griffin pulled me back.

"Wait outside." He gripped my hand, warmth from his palm transferring over. "I'll stay with you."

The operating room door slowly closed, blocking the view inside. The red indicator light came on, particularly glaring in the stark white hallway. Griffin and I sat on the hallway bench, silence spreading between us.

Finally, I spoke first. "Between him and me..."

"I trust you. You don't need to explain."

Looking at Griffin's gentle eyes, I realized I might have actually fallen in love with him.

"Dwayne's death wasn't your fault."

I turned to look at him. His gaze was fixed on the indicator light, his tone calm. "The Fisher family wanted to trade you for Valentin's life. If I hadn't done what I did, the Fisher family wouldn't have let you go easily."

My breath caught.

"Griffin, did you really kill him?" I asked softly.

He turned his head, his eyes frank. "I saved you."

The clock in the hallway ticked away, second by second, exceptionally long. I looked into his eyes and suddenly understood—some truths are best never known.

I took his hand and rested my head on his shoulder.

Feeling the lines of his palm through my fingertips, I suddenly felt that no matter the surgery's outcome, no matter how many storms lay ahead, as long as he was here, I had nothing to fear.