Chapter 68 Aren’t you happy to see me

Chapter 68 Aren’t you happy to see me
She blinked slowly, her lips curving into a faint smile. “I’m sorry I worried you, Daddy.”

Tears blurred his vision. “Don’t ever say that again. You’re all that matters.”

He ran out to call the nurses, his voice echoing through the hall. They rushed in moments later, checking her vitals, ensuring everything was stable. When they confirmed she was fine, Alaric felt an immense weight lift from his chest.

Later, Isabella arrived and nearly burst into tears when she saw Zara awake. “Zars! You’re finally up!” she cried, rushing to hug her friend. “You scared me half to death. I missed you so much.”

Zara’s smile softened. Her voice was still weak, but her words came steady. “How’s Adrian?”

Isabella blinked, surprised by the question. “He was here this morning,” she said gently. “He came to check on you before heading back to the office.”

Alaric watched quietly from his chair, emotion glistening in his eyes. For the first time in days, the room was filled with warmth again laughter, tears, and the promise of healing. Outside, sunlight streamed through the blinds, touching Zara’s face like a silent blessing.

And in that moment, Alaric knew hope had returned.

Zara, you’re a strong one,” one of the doctors said softly, admiration lacing his tired smile.

Zara’s lips curved faintly, her skin pale against the white hospital sheets. Her gaze drifted immediately toward the door searching, hoping for Adrian. But he wasn’t there.

“So now,” the doctor continued, adjusting his glasses, “you’ll have to stay here until you’re completely recovered, alright?”

Zara nodded obediently. “Okay, doctor.”

When the medical team left, her father lingered beside her bed, refusing to move.

“Daddy,” she said gently, “you can go home and rest now, okay? I’m feeling better… Isabella will stay with me.”

Alaric’s tired eyes searched her face as if afraid to lose her again. “You sure, my girl?”

She smiled weakly. “Yes. I’ll be fine.”

He hesitated for a long moment, then finally gave in, pressing a kiss on her forehead before leaving the room.

As soon as the door closed, Zara turned to Isabella. “He’s been here all night, hasn’t he?”

Isabella nodded. “Both of them have.”

Zara frowned slightly. “Both?”

Before Isabella could answer, Adrisn appeared at the end of the corridor. His steps were slow, uncertain. He had come back perhaps to see her, perhaps just to stand near her but when he saw Zara awake and smiling through the half-open door, guilt hit him like a wave.

He froze, his hand still on the doorknob. For a second, his breath hitched as if seeing her alive was too much to bear. Then, quietly, he stepped back, closing the door halfway before turning away.

“Adrisn?” Zara whispered, catching a glimpse of his retreating figure through the small glass panel.

Her heart clenched. “He was here…”

Isabella bit her lip. “Ever since you got shot, he’s been blaming himself,” she confessed softly. “He barely sleeps. He talks to you every day… telling you to wake up.”

Zara’s eyes softened. “Oh, Adrisn…”

“Zara, you need to rest,” Isabella urged, but Zara shook her head firmly.

“Help me get to him.”

“What? You’re still weak!”

“I don’t care,” she said stubbornly. “Please, Isabella. Just this once.”

Sighing, Isabella wheeled over a chair and helped Zara into it carefully. Her body trembled, but her resolve didn’t. They made their way out into the hospital courtyard, a small space filled with benches, nurses passing, and families whispering hope into the air.

They spotted him easily. Adrian sat alone on a bench beneath a flickering streetlight, elbows resting on his knees, face buried in his hands. The world around him moved, but he didn’t.

Zara’s heart broke at the sight.

He was whispering something under his breath, voice rough and trembling. “I failed you, Zara… I failed you as a man. How can I even look at you?”

Tears slipped down his cheeks silent, stubborn tears that refused to fall all this time but couldn’t hold back anymore.

He had never cried since the day she was shot. Not once. But now, seeing her alive, smiling, still finding strength after pain meant for him it was too much.

“Adrian ,” she called softly.

He looked up, startled.

For a moment, he thought he was dreaming. Her voice, gentle, warm, trembling cut through his guilt like light breaking through clouds. Isabella silently stepped back, leaving them alone.

“Why did you run away?” Zara asked.

He didn’t answer. His jaw tightened, his eyes fixed on the ground.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” she whispered.

Still silence.

Zara wheeled closer, until her knees almost touched his. Slowly, she lifted her hand and placed it against his cheek. His skin was warm, wet from tears.

“Adrian,” she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion, “don’t do this to yourself. Don’t blame yourself for what happened. I did this because I had to… because I couldn’t let them hurt you.

Her eyes glistened as her voice broke. “You’ve always protected me, Adrian. Always. I just wanted… for once… to protect you too.”

He looked up at her then, and what she saw in his eyes made her breath catch. Guilt. Fear. . All tangled together.

“Zara,” he whispered, voice weak, “don’t ever try to protect me like that again.”

She nodded through her tears, smiling faintly. “Then don’t ever give me a reason to.”

He gave a shaky laugh, half sob, and finally after all those sleepless nights he pulled her into his arms.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. The world around them disappeared. It was just the two of them their broken hearts finding comfort in each other’s silence.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers. “Just promise me something,” he murmured. “Never put your happiness last to make others feel good. You matter too.”

Zara’s lips quivered, but she nodded. “Only if you promise the same.”

They smiled through tears, holding onto each other as if letting go would mean losing everything all over again.

And for the first time since the shooting, the night around them felt still like healing had quietly begun