The sunlight streaming through the window should have felt warm, but Amara couldn't shake the chill that clung to her. Maybe it was the hospital air, too clean, too sharp. Or maybe it was the way Adrian hadn't looked her in the eye since dawn.
He'd been there, of course....steady, dependable, quiet. Just as he had been the night of the storm, just as he had been when Emily needed him most. But something had shifted. The ease in his shoulders was gone, replaced by a heaviness he tried too hard to mask.
Amara noticed it in the little things.
When Emily stirred awake and murmured her thanks, Adrian smiled politely, but it didn't reach his eyes.
When she tried to start a conversation with him, his answers were shorter than usual, clipped around the edges.
When their gazes almost met, he looked away first. Always.
It stung more than she wanted to admit.
She tried to tell herself it was nothing. Maybe he was tired. Maybe the long night had worn him down. But her heart whispered otherwise. She remembered the way his hand had steadied hers when the thunder shook her to her core, the way his jacket had wrapped around her shoulders at the beach, the way he had called the hospital director without hesitation, as though he would tear down the world itself if it meant keeping her safe.
That wasn't someone who pulled away. That wasn't someone who avoided her gaze.
So why did it feel like he was retreating behind walls she couldn't see?
Emily was the first to break the quiet. "I feel better already," she said with a small laugh, though her voice was still weak. "I'll probably be out of here by tomorrow."
Amara forced a smile. "Good. You gave me enough of a scare for one lifetime."
Emily squeezed her hand, her expression apologetic. "Sorry. Didn't mean to cause all this."
Adrian's voice came from the corner. "You don't have to apologize. None of this was your fault."
His tone was calm, even gentle, but something about it felt distant, as if he were speaking from another room rather than three steps away. Amara's eyes flicked toward him, hoping he might glance back. He didn't.
Her chest tightened.
The day wore on in slow pieces. Nurses came and went, checking vitals, adjusting IVs. Emily dozed on and off, her exhaustion still visible. Adrian spent most of the time near the window, his phone in hand but unused. Amara stayed by Emily's bedside, though her mind kept drifting to him, circling the questions she couldn't ask aloud.
By afternoon, she couldn't take it anymore. When Emily fell asleep again, Amara slipped out into the hallway. She needed air. She needed space to breathe.
The corridor smelled faintly of antiseptic and coffee, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. She leaned against the cool wall, pressing her hands together, trying to steady the tangle of emotions inside her.
She was grateful for Adrian. Grateful that he had been there when she couldn't hold herself together. Grateful that he had answered questions she hadn't even spoken aloud. Grateful, and… something else she didn't dare name yet.
But gratitude didn't explain the ache in her chest when he pulled away. Gratitude didn't explain the way she kept searching for his eyes, even when he avoided hers.
The truth pressed at her, uncomfortable but undeniable. She wanted to understand him
..not just the version he allowed the world to see, but the one he kept locked behind those careful walls. She wanted to know why his smile sometimes faltered when he thought no one was looking, why his eyes held storms even in the quietest moments.
And maybe, just maybe, she wanted to be the one he trusted enough to let inside.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. She looked up to see Adrian approaching, his expression unreadable.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice low.
She nodded quickly, maybe too quickly. "Yeah. Just… needed some air."
He studied her for a moment, as though weighing whether to believe her. Then he leaned against the opposite wall, crossing his arms. They stood in silence, the distance between them louder than any words.
Finally, Amara spoke. "You've been quiet today."
Adrian's gaze flickered, but he didn't answer right away. "It's been a long night," he said at last.
"That's not all," she said gently.
His jaw tightened, just barely. "Amara…"
She took a breath, summoning courage she didn't know she had. "You don't have to tell me everything. I just… I can see when something's wrong. You don't have to carry it alone."
For a moment, she thought he might actually tell her. His eyes softened, as though the weight of her words cracked something inside him. But just as quickly, the shutters came down again. He gave a small shake of his head, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"You worry too much," he said.
Amara's heart sank, but she didn't press further. Not now. Pushing him would only drive him farther away.
Still, as they walked back into the room together, she made herself a quiet promise. She wouldn't give up. Whatever shadows haunted him, she would wait. She would be there when he was ready.
That night, after Emily had drifted into another round of sleep, Amara lay awake in the small fold-out chair beside her. She stared at the ceiling, her mind replaying the day in fragments....the distance in Adrian's eyes, the heaviness in his voice, the way he had stood across from her in the hallway, so close yet so unreachable.
She wanted to tell herself it didn't matter. That her focus should be on Emily, on school, on anything but Adrian Hale. But deep down, she knew it wasn't that simple.
Some people you meet and forget. Some people fade into the background of your life, like passing shadows.
And then there are the ones who stay. The ones who matter, even when you wish they didn't.
Adrian was one of those.
She closed her eyes, whispering into the quiet, "Why are you pulling away from me?"
No answer came, of course. Only the steady rhythm of Emily's breathing beside her and the unspoken ache in her own chest.
But Amara knew this much....whatever Adrian was hiding, whatever weight he carried, she wanted to understand. And she wasn't going to let him slip away without a fight.