Chapter 66 Chapter 66
Chapter 66
It was already past 8 p.m.
The hospital room felt unfamiliar, like a place he didn’t belong but couldn’t leave. The steady beeping beside his bed counted seconds he didn’t want to notice. Ethan lay back against the pillows, eyes fixed on the ceiling, replaying the same images over and over. Smoke. Her face. Her voice calling his name.
Sleep had come earlier, heavy and deep, but it didn’t last. He woke with the same thought pressing at him.
Is she okay?
The door opened softly.
A doctor stepped in, calm, practiced, holding a small tray with pills and a cup of water. “Time for your night medication, Mr Castellan.”
Ethan barely turned his head. His voice came out rougher than he expected. “Can I see her?”
The doctor stopped mid-step. “See who?”
“Celine,” Ethan answered, without thinking, without hesitation.
The doctor studied him for a moment. “You need to rest, sir. I’m sure she’s asleep by now.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened. “I just want to see her. I won’t wake her. I won’t disturb anything.”
“You entered a burning floor alone,” the doctor said carefully. “Your arm, your ribs—your body needs rest.”
“I know,” Ethan said, more quietly now. “I know what I did. Just five minutes. I’ll sit. I won’t touch anything.”
The doctor looked at him longer this time. Not as a patient, but as a man clearly fighting something he didn’t understand himself. There was impatience there, but also worry. And something restless, almost desperate.
After a pause, the doctor nodded. “Five minutes. A nurse will take you. And that’s all.”
Ethan let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Thank you.”
A nurse arrived moments later with a wheelchair. She moved carefully, gently helping him sit. His arm protested, a sharp reminder of what he’d done, but he ignored it. Pain felt small compared to the thought of not seeing her.
They moved through the hallway slowly. The lights passed overhead one by one. Nurses and doctors walked past, their faces serious, their steps quick. Ethan didn’t look at any of them. His eyes stayed forward, his thoughts already ahead of him.
At Celine’s door, the nurse stopped.
“She’s asleep,” she said softly, like she was guarding something fragile.
“That’s fine,” Ethan replied. His voice was steady, but his chest felt tight.
The nurse wheeled him inside and positioned him near the door. The room was calm, untouched by the panic that had filled his office hours earlier.
“Can you excuse me?” Ethan asked quietly.
She nodded. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
The door closed with a soft click.
Ethan stayed where he was for a moment, just breathing, letting the silence settle. He hadn’t even seen her yet, but knowing she was here—alive—did something to him.
He lifted his eyes slowly.
And there she was.
Celine lay still on the bed, her face relaxed, lashes resting against her cheeks. A small bandage covered part of her head. Her hands were wrapped, resting neatly over the blanket. She looked smaller here, more fragile than he remembered.
His throat tightened.
This was the woman he’d run into fire for.
Five minutes suddenly didn’t feel like enough.
The room was dim, calm and untouched by the chaos that had brought them both here.
Ethan stared at her.
He didn’t understand why his chest felt like this. Why his thoughts circled only around her. Just days ago, she had been nothing more than an employee. A stranger who worked in his office.
And now… now she felt like something else entirely.
He pushed himself up slowly, ignoring the warning pain in his arm. He stood, unsteady but determined, and took a step closer to her bed.
She looked peaceful.
Too peaceful for someone who had nearly died.
His throat tightened.
“I don’t understand this,” he whispered to himself. “I don’t even know you.”
Yet his heart didn’t care.
He leaned slightly closer, his voice barely louder than a breath.
“I love you, Celine,” he whispered.
The words shocked him even as they left his mouth.
“I love you,” he repeated, softer this time, like he was testing if they were real.
Her eyelids fluttered.
Ethan froze.
Slowly, her eyes opened.
The first thing Celine saw was his face, close, serious, unreadable.
She blinked, confused.
“Mr Castellan?” she said weakly, trying to sit up.
Ethan straightened instantly and stepped back.
“Don’t— don’t move,” he said quickly. “You should rest.”
Celine struggled slightly, then stopped when pain reminded her where she was.
“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly. “I’m really sorry, Mr Castellan.”
Ethan frowned. “Sorry for what?”
“You shouldn’t have saved me,” she said, her voice trembling. “I owe you so much. You could have died because of me. Please forgive me.”
The words hit him harder than the fire ever did.
“No,” he said awkwardly. “It’s… it’s okay.”
She looked at him with guilt written all over her face.
“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she continued. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”
“You didn’t,” Ethan said quickly. Then he stopped, unsure of what else to say.
Silence stretched between them.
He felt exposed. She had seen him here. Vulnerable. Too close.
“I just came in to…” he started, then stopped. “I should go.”
He turned away, sat back into the wheelchair, and awkwardly pushed himself toward the door.
“I’ll be leaving now,” he added, not meeting her eyes.
He wheeled himself out of the room, careful this time, slower than when he had come in. The door closed softly behind him, the sound barely noticeable, yet it echoed in Celine’s ears.
She stayed still, staring at the door like it might open again if she looked hard enough.
Her heart was beating too fast. Not from fear. Not from pain.
From confusion.
“Why was he here?” she whispered, her voice thin, almost embarrassed by how shaky it sounded.
The room felt different now. Too quiet. Too empty.
She shifted slightly on the bed, the movement pulling at the bandage on her head. She ignored the discomfort. Her mind was busy replaying everything that had just happened. The way he had stood there. The way his eyes had locked onto her face like he was afraid she might disappear if he blinked.
She swallowed.
His face kept coming back to her. So close. Too close for a boss. Too close for a stranger.
Her fingers curled into the sheet.
She tried to remember what he had said.
She knew he had spoken. She remembered his lips moving. She remembered the sound of his voice filling the room. But the words themselves were gone, slipping through her mind like they had never been there.
It bothered her more than it should have.
“How can I not remember?” she murmured.
She closed her eyes, trying to force the memory back. Nothing came. Just the image of him standing there, injured, stubborn, looking at her like she mattered in a way she wasn’t ready to understand.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly.
He shouldn’t have come. He shouldn’t have risked himself. He shouldn’t be taking space in her thoughts like this.
Yet here he was.
She opened her eyes again, staring at the ceiling this time.
“I’m just an employee,” she said softly, as if reminding herself of a rule she was about to break.
But the words didn’t feel strong enough.
Her lips pressed together as a strange warmth settled in her chest, unfamiliar and unsettling. She didn’t like how her heart reacted at the thought of him. She didn’t like that her mind kept going back to his face instead of the fire, instead of
the pain.
Most of all, she didn’t like how, even without remembering his words, she felt like something important had passed between them.
Something she couldn’t name.
And couldn’t ignore.