Chapter 20 CROSSFIRE.

Chapter 20 CROSSFIRE.
COLE’S POV:

I’d been pacing for what felt like hours. The steady beep… beep… beep of the monitor was the only sound in the room, and each one made my chest tighten a little more.

Andrew lay there — still, pale, hooked up to all these tubes and wires and I couldn’t do anything but watch.

The nurse had been hovering around him, checking his vitals, adjusting the IV, scribbling notes on a clipboard every now and then. But not a single word. Not even a glance in my direction.

Every second of silence felt like a punishment.

I rubbed my hands together, trying to ease the ache that had settled in my chest. How long had it been? Five hours? Ten? I didn’t even know anymore. The walls of this hospital room were starting to feel like they were closing in.

When the doctor came in earlier, I thought maybe — finally — someone would tell me something. But after a few minutes of murmured medical jargon between her and the nurse, she left.

And now, it was just the nurse again, pressing the stethoscope to Andrew’s chest like she hadn’t done it a thousand times already.

I clenched my jaw, watching her carefully place the stethoscope against his wrist again. That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Can you\-” My voice came out rough. I took a sharp breath and tried again. “Can you just tell me what’s going on already?”

The nurse froze, her hand still on Andrew’s arm. Her eyes flicked up at me, startled.

“I’ve been sitting here watching you poke and check and write for hours,” I continued, my voice rising before I could stop it. “You haven’t said a single word. Not one! Is he going to be okay or not?”

She blinked, clearly flustered, her lips parting as if she wanted to speak but didn’t know how.

“I—I understand you’re worried, sir, but—”

“But what?” I snapped, stepping closer. “You keep saying the same thing — ‘please wait, we’re monitoring him’. What does that even mean?”

The nurse swallowed hard, glancing at Andrew before looking back at me. “His condition is—”

The door slammed open.

Both of us turned instantly.

Mira stood at the doorway, breath uneven, her hair slightly tangled, her eyes darting straight to the bed. The moment she saw Andrew lying there, her whole expression changed, her worry breaking through the composed front she tried to hold.

“Andrew…” she breathed, stepping forward fast.

She brushed past me like I wasn’t even there, going straight to his bedside. Her hands hovered over his arm, hesitating before she touched him — not crying, but her tension was obvious.

Her breathing was quick; her gaze locked on his face like she was trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

Then she turned to me; eyes sharp, heat simmering under the worry.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” she said, voice low but trembling with irritation.

I frowned, pushing off the wall. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, Cole.” Her tone cut through the quiet like glass. “I know you’ve been pressing Andrew for answers again. Maybe that’s why he passed out — maybe it’s your fault.”

I stared at her, stunned for a beat, then scoffed under my breath. “You think I made him pass out?”

“I think you don’t know when to stop,” she fired back. “You’ve been bothering him nonstop, asking questions, poking around in things that aren’t your business!”

“Don’t twist this around on me!” My voice came out louder than I meant. The nurse flinched, clutching her clipboard tighter. “I was the one who brought him here, Mira! Where were you, huh?”

That shut her up for half a second. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. I could see the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed whatever she wanted to throw back at me.

Then her eyes darkened again. “You think that makes you a hero?”

I took another slow breath, but it didn’t help. My chest felt like it was about to explode. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Both of you are!” the nurse suddenly blurted, her voice trembling but loud enough to pierce the tension. “This is a hospital, for God’s sake!”

We both turned toward her, startled.

Before either of us could speak, the door opened again. This time slower, firmer. The doctor walked in, her white coat swaying slightly as she closed the door behind her.

She didn’t look angry — just… tired. The kind of tiredness that came with authority.

Her eyes flicked from Mira to me, calm but cutting. “I can understand your frustration,” she said evenly, her voice low but steady enough to command silence.   

“But I won’t tolerate shouting matches in a recovery ward. We have patients resting, and your voices are doing the opposite of helping.”

For a moment, the only sound between us was the faint hum of the machines. Mira’s hands were clenched into fists, her breathing sharp; mine wasn’t much steadier.

We just stood there, staring each other down — her anger burning beneath worry, mine stretched thin with exhaustion.

That was all it took. The room fell quiet instantly. Even Mira lowered her gaze, her lips pressed tight.

The doctor sighed and turned to the nurse. “Have you told them about the patient’s condition yet?”

The nurse hesitated, shaking her head slightly. “Not yet, ma’am. I was about to.”

“Then do that now,” the doctor said, folding her arms.

The nurse nodded and looked at both of us, her eyes darting nervously between our faces. “Um… the patient is suffering from severe paranoia and insomnia,” she began carefully.

“That’s what caused the collapse earlier. His body and mind are both under extreme stress. It’s like he hasn’t had proper rest in days.”

My stomach twisted. Paranoia? Insomnia? That didn’t sound like Andrew. Sure, he had walls, but paranoia?

Yeah, like I knew him well enough to decide that.

Beside me, Mira frowned deeply, arms crossing over her chest. “Paranoia?” she echoed softly, her brows knitting together.

I caught her glance — quick, uncertain. For a brief moment, our anger dimmed into confusion.

The nurse continued, her tone careful. “We’ll have to move him to a different room - somewhere quieter, away from constant noise. It’ll help stabilize him properly.”

That pulled me back to focus. “What’s wrong with this room?” I asked, stepping forward slightly. “Can’t you just treat him here?”

Before the nurse could answer, Mira cut in sharply. “Can you not interrupt for once, Cole? Let them do their job!”

I turned to her, glaring. “You’re seriously doing this now?”

“Yes!” she snapped, her voice trembling with fury. “Because you don’t know when to stop talking!”

I stared at her hard, my jaw tightening until my teeth ached. I’d had enough — enough of her blame, her noise, her pretending she cared more than I did.

Just as I opened my mouth to fire back, the doctor spoke again — calm, but firm enough to silence both of us. “Whether either of you agree or not,” she said, looking between us.

“We’ll proceed as necessary. If you care about the patient’s recovery, then you’ll let us handle it our way.”

Her tone wasn’t up for debate.

I exhaled sharply, gritting my jaw and looking away. The hum of the monitor filled the space between us again, steady and cold.

Mira finally spoke, her voice smaller now. “Do everything you have to,” she said to the doctor. “Just… make sure he’s okay.”

The doctor gave a curt nod. “We will.”

The nurse mirrored the gesture, setting her clipboard down before the two of them quietly exited the room, leaving the door slightly ajar as they went to make arrangements.

Silence fell again.

Mira stood beside the bed, staring at Andrew. I stayed where I was, my fists still clenched, staring at the floor.

For once, neither of us had anything left to say.