Chapter 80

Chapter 80
ADRIEN

Mrs. Lilian's figure disappeared behind the hospital room door, leaving me standing alone in the empty corridor. The way she had looked at me just now—that indifference, as if I were nothing more than air—made my heart feel like it was being squeezed by an invisible fist. I tried to move my feet, but they felt as heavy as lead.

It was a strange sensation, as if my body no longer belonged to me, as if some unseen force had nailed me to this spot. I stared blankly at that closed door, as though standing here long enough would prove something. Prove what? That my feelings for Kaia were real? That I had the right to be here? I couldn't even tell myself what I was trying to prove.

"Adrien, this is pointless." Amy's voice came from beside me, tinged with helplessness and concern. Her hand gently touched my arm, trying to bring me back to reality. "She needs quiet right now. Standing here won't change anything."

I turned to look at Amy, wanting to say something, but my throat felt stuffed with cotton—no sound would come out. Amy read the stubbornness in my eyes and sighed, shaking her head.

"I know you're worried about her. We all are. But..." Amy paused, seeming to choose her words carefully, "some things aren't yours to decide, Adrien."

Her words pierced my heart like a thorn. Not mine to decide? Then what was mine to decide? Could I decide whether to fall in love with Kaia? Could I decide not to care about her pain? Could I decide to just give up like this?

Amy waited for a response, and when none came, she finally left with a helpless sigh. Her footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing fainter until they disappeared completely. Once again, I was left alone to face this door, to face all the unknowns behind it.

Time stretched endlessly in this silence. I didn't know how long I had been standing there, just mechanically staring at that door, replaying Mrs. Lilian's gaze over and over in my mind. There had been no anger in those eyes, no disgust, not even any emotion at all—and that was the most terrifying part, because it meant that in her eyes, I wasn't worth any emotional investment.

Just as I was spiraling deeper into this cycle of self-torment, the hospital room door suddenly opened. Mrs. Lilian stepped out, and when she saw me still standing in the same spot, a flash of shock crossed her eyes. For just an instant, her mask seemed to slip, revealing genuine emotion. But this surprise lasted less than a second before she quickly composed herself, returning to that calm, elegant demeanor.

We stared at each other for a few seconds, the air thick with tension. I wanted to speak, to explain, to plead, but under her deep, penetrating gaze, all words seemed pale and powerless.

"You're still here," she said calmly, her voice carrying no accusation—just stating a fact.

I straightened my shoulders, though I couldn't quite meet her eyes directly. "Yes, I am."

Mrs. Lilian glanced at her watch, then looked back at me. "Join me for tea, Adrien."

The invitation caught me off guard. I stood there stunned for a moment before responding. "Of course." My voice was steady, though my throat still felt tight.

We went to a small café near the hospital. It was a quiet place, nearly empty in the afternoon hours. Mrs. Lilian chose a table by the window and sat down gracefully. I sat across from her, my posture straight but my hands clasped tightly in my lap, trying to hide their trembling.

Coffee was brought to us quickly, its aroma filling the space between us. But neither of us reached for our cups; we simply sat in silence, neither speaking. The quiet stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words and memories.

I couldn't help but think back to our last encounter, a week after the accident. Mrs. Lilian had been a completely different person then—raw, emotional, her elegant composure shattered by grief and rage. She had cornered me inside the hospital room, her eyes blazing with fury and tears.

"You! It was you! How could you do this to her?" she had demanded, her voice breaking with anguish. "How could you hurt my little girl?”

Her emotions grew increasingly intense “My baby gril, she may never wake up again! I hate you, Adrien. I hate what you've done to her."

Her words had been like physical blows, each one landing with devastating accuracy. I had stood there, taking every accusation, because deep down, I believed I deserved them. Even now, sitting across from her in this quiet café, that guilt still gnawed at my chest like a living thing.

But that emotional storm had passed. Sometime between then and now, Mrs. Lilian had learned the full story from Amy—about how Kaia and I had started as adversaries, about how that antagonism had transformed into something else entirely. The details might have been unclear to her, but she understood enough. And instead of more anger or hatred, she had arrived at something far more dangerous: cold, calculated certainty that I was wrong for her daughter.

Finally, Mrs. Lilian turned to look at me. Her gaze remained calm, but I could sense the sharp determination beneath.

"Leave Kaia alone, Adrien."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I felt my chest tighten, but beneath the guilt, that stubborn resolve that had always defined me stirred to life.

I looked down at my hands for a moment, then back up at her. "I can't do that, Mrs. Lilian."

She studied me with those penetrating eyes, and I forced myself to continue despite the weight of guilt in my chest.

"I know you have every right to blame me," I said quietly. "Even though it was an accident, I can't help feeling that if I had been different, if I had made different choices, maybe Kaia wouldn't be lying in that hospital bed right now."

Mrs. Lilian's expression softened slightly, but her resolve remained unchanged. "Amy told me about your relationship. How it began, how it developed. I understand the... intensity between you two."

She paused, choosing her words carefully. "But I also understand who you are, Adrien. Impulsive. Quick to anger. Proud to a fault. These aren't qualities that lead to the kind of stable, peaceful life Kaia deserves."

I felt the familiar sting of truth in her words, and for a moment, the guilt threatened to overwhelm me. "You're right," I admitted, my voice rough. "I am all of those things. Maybe... maybe if I had been different, none of this would have happened."

Mrs. Lilian leaned forward slightly, sensing an opening. "Then you understand why I'm asking you to step away. For her sake."

But as the words left her lips, something crystallized inside me. Yes, I had flaws. Yes, I carried guilt about what had happened. But that didn't change the fundamental truth of what Kaia and I had together.

I lifted my head, meeting her gaze directly. "I understand your concerns, Mrs. Lilian. And I'm sorry—truly sorry—for any pain my nature has caused. But you're wrong about what that means for Kaia and me."

Mrs. Lilian's eyes sharpened. "Am I? Your volatility, your pride—"

"Will be channeled differently," I interrupted, my voice growing stronger. "I won't lie to you and say I'll become someone else entirely. I will always fight for what I believe in, always stand my ground when it matters. But I'll fight smarter. I'll be better—for her."

"Pretty words," she said quietly. "But can you actually deliver on them?"

I met her gaze without wavering. "I can, and I will. My intensity doesn't have to mean chaos, Mrs. Lilian. It can mean devotion, protection, unwavering commitment. Kaia doesn't need someone who will coddle her—she needs someone who will love her fiercely enough to become the best version of himself."

Mrs. Lilian was quiet for a long moment, studying me. When she finally spoke, her voice carried a note of finality.

"We'll see, Adrien. But I won't stand by and watch my daughter suffer because of your learning process."

She reached for her purse with deliberate precision, her movements sharp with controlled frustration.

"This conversation is over," she said, standing gracefully. "I've said what I needed to say."

She placed a few bills on the table for the coffee, her eyes never leaving mine. "Kaia deserves peace, Adrien. Remember that."

Without another word, she turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the café floor with quiet authority. I watched her leave, my hands steady on the table, my resolve crystallizing into something unbreakable.

Mrs. Lilian could see my flaws clearly—perhaps more clearly than I wanted to admit. The guilt I carried about Kaia's accident would probably never fully leave me. But none of that changed the simple, incontrovertible truth: I loved Kaia, and I would not give up on us.

I sat in the café for a few more minutes, a certainty hardening in my chest: I would love Kaia the way she deserved—and this would be the greatest challenge of my life.

No matter the cost, I would win her heart back.