Chapter 30 Chapter 30
The hospital room was quieter than usual, the steady hum of the air conditioner mixing with the distant footsteps in the hallway. I sat on the edge of the bed, rolling the sleeve of my hoodie up and down my arm just to give my fingers something to do. The doctor had discharged me earlier, but Adrian insisted I rest a little longer before leaving. Typical him—calm, composed, but stubborn in a quiet way that somehow made people listen.
He stood by the window now, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone as though he was reading something important. But I could tell he wasn’t. His shoulders were a little too still, his jaw a little too tight. I’d spent enough time around him to start noticing these small things.
“Are you sure you’re feeling better?” he asked without turning around.
“I told you, yes. You’ve asked me like ten times already.”
I tried to make it sound playful, but my voice came out softer. He finally looked at me—really looked—and something warm flickered in his eyes. Concern mixed with something else I didn’t want to assume.
He slipped his phone into his pocket and walked toward me. “I just… I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
My breath hitched. Why did those words sound heavier than they should?
“I’m fine, Adrian. Really.” I forced a small smile. “Besides, the doctor said it was just stress.”
“That’s what worries me,” he replied.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. It wasn’t an awkward silence—just charged. Full. Like the air between us was waiting for someone to poke it and make it burst.
He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. “Elena… I’ve been thinking.”
Oh no. Thinking usually meant trouble.
“About what?” I asked carefully.
His gaze held mine, steady and unreadable. “About us.”
My heart thudded once—loud and unreasonable. “Us?”
He nodded. “We’ve been so focused on revenge, on protecting you, on handling Daniel… everything. And somewhere in all that, I realized something.”
I swallowed. Hard. “Which is?”
He hesitated, which was rare for him. “I want to spend actual time with you. Not planning. Not pretending. Just… being with you.”
The room suddenly felt smaller. Warmer. My pulse echoed in my ears.
“Are you… asking me something?” I whispered.
“Yes.” He stepped closer, close enough that his cologne wrapped around me. “I want to take you out. On a date.”
I blinked at him, sure I misheard. “A date?”
“A real one,” he said, his voice low but firm. “No fake engagement talk. No strategy. Just you and me.”
My chest tightened—not with fear, but with something dangerously close to excitement. This was the part where I should have teased him, asked why, or made some clever remark. But my mind was blank.
“Why?” I asked instead.
Adrian smiled a little, the kind of smile that didn’t show often. “Because I enjoy being around you. Because I want to know you outside of all this chaos. Because…” his eyes softened, “…you matter to me more than I expected.”
That last line settled deep in my stomach.
I cleared my throat, forcing myself to breathe normally. “And you picked now? In the hospital?”
“You can refuse,” he said, though the way he watched my face told me he hoped I wouldn’t.
I didn’t want to. Not even a little.
“Okay,” I said quietly. “Take me out.”
His expression relaxed, like he’d been holding his breath too. “Tomorrow evening. I’ll pick you up.”
I raised a brow. “And what if I’m busy?”
“You won’t be,” he said simply.
I laughed, surprising both of us. “Bossy.”
“Determined,” he corrected.
The nurse walked in briefly to hand me the discharge papers, breaking the tension, but the air still felt warm when she left.
As I stood to gather my things, Adrian picked up my bag before I could. “I’ve got it.”
“I can carry my own bag,” I said.
“I know.” He gave me another one of those looks—soft, but annoyingly charming. “Let me do it anyway.”
We walked toward the door, and just before I stepped out, he touched my wrist lightly. Not grabbing—just a brush of his fingers against my skin. It sent a small, unhelpful shiver up my arm.
“Elena?” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Tomorrow… wear something you feel confident in.”
I narrowed my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my mouth. “And what makes you think I’m not always confident?”
His eyes dipped briefly—very briefly—to my lips before returning to mine. “You always are,” he said. “But tomorrow, I want you to feel it too.”
He let go of my wrist, leaving a ghost of warmth behind.
Great. Now my heartbeat might never return to normal.