As the elevator ascended, the small space felt unbearably silent. Lena stood pinned to the wall, her body rigid, her fists clenched—tight with pain, tighter with anger. Anger at herself. Anger at her weakness. She had promised herself she would protect her father, that she would never let harm come his way. But he had been missing for days, and no matter how desperately she searched, no matter how sleepless her nights were, she still believed she hadn't done enough. And now she was on her way to see him—injured, fragile, lying in a hospital bed.
Her throat tightened. Tears streamed slowly, uncontrollably.
"Hey," Moody's voice broke the silence—soft, calm, unusually gentle. "Are you okay? Come on, don't fall apart now. We're almost there."
"I…I…" she tried, but her voice trembled. "I just—Moody, I didn't do enough. I didn't look hard enough for my dad. If I had…if I really had…he wouldn't be in this place. I don't know if he's injured badly or not. Why is this happening to me?" Her voice cracked just as the elevator beeped for their floor.
Moody reached out and took her hand, steadying her trembling fingers. He guided her forward, gently wiping her cheeks with his other hand.
"It's okay, baby girl," he murmured. "Look at me—I'm here. I'm trying my best to show you that you still have someone who cares."
Lena sniffed, rolling her eyes despite the tears. "Moody, stop. This isn't the moment for your jokes."
"It isn't," he admitted. "But all I want is to see you in me". You never let anyone down neither your dad nor me.
' Just know what you did, it's for the best and I wouldn't deny it by saying you're the greatest one . You are very strong girl and I mean it.' He said calmly his eyes on hers.
"What do you mean?" she asked, genuinely confused.
"I want you to be strong," he said softly. "Unless you want me to cry too." He attempted a smile—one of those small, crooked smiles planted on his cheeks.
"Oh really?" she muttered, shaking her head. "Come on. Let's stop the nonsense. I can't waste another second. I need to see my dad. Where's the nurse attending to him?"
"Uh—wrong direction. There she is. Wait—Is she leaving?"
"Maybe," Lena said, walking quickly. "Hey! Excuse me! Ma'am, please wait!" she called out, her voice echoing down the hallway.
The nurse turned around. "Hello. How may I help you?" she asked with a calm, patient tone.
"Um! Yes!… Are you the one caring for my father? Mr. Luke Skye. Is he here?" Lena asked, her eyes anxious.
"Oh, Ofcourse!. Then you must be Lena Skye." The nurse's face softened. "Come on in. He's been calling your name since day one."
"Yes, I'm Lena," she whispered. "How is he? Is he stable? Is he—"
"Relax," the nurse assured her. "He's recovering well. No need to worry so much. Have you cleared the bill?"
"Not yet. How much is it? Is he allowed to go home? Can he walk? Does he—"
"Lee," Moody interrupted gently, "why are you attacking her with a million questions? Breathe. Just breathe. I'm here. Go see your father. I'll handle everything else."
He turned to the nurse. "Please show me where the payments are made."
The nurse nodded and began walking with him.
"Moody…" Lena called out softly, her voice breaking again. "Thank you."
He paused, looking back with a faint smile. "For what?"
"For everything. Without you, I…I don't even know…"
' Heey! Come on, anything for you, always.'
' Thank youbso must bestie, i really mean it....'
"Shhhh." He put a finger to her lips. "Don't thank me now. Just go to him. If you really want to thank me—do it in the future, not today." His head dipped slightly as he followed the nurse down the corridor.
Lena watched him leave, her heart heavy and warm all at once. Tears gathered again as she wondered what he meant about "the future." This—this support, this unwavering presence—this was what true friendship was supposed to feel like. And she hoped that one day, she would be strong enough to stand by him just the same. Hope she won't backstab him no matter what.
After a shaky breath, she pushed the door open.
Her heart shattered instantly.
Her father lay silently on the bed—bandage wrapped around his head, a plaster cast on his left leg, small cuts marking his skin. The sight of him so still, so vulnerable, tore her apart. She rushed to him, collapsing into his arms with a broken sob.
"Dad…I'm sorry," she cried. "I'm not good enough. Please forgive me for not being responsible… I swear I tried my best, but I…I don't know…"
"Hey, hey," Mr. Skye murmured, lifting a trembling hand to her back. "Shush. No need to cry like that when I'm right here. What's wrong with you? Did I raise you to be a crybaby?" He tried to glare, but even his cold eyes softened at her tears.
She pulled back just enough to see his face. "I was so scared," she whispered. "I thought I'd lost you."
"Well, you didn't," he said, voice low but warm. "And I'm grateful you kept looking for me. Lena…you did more than enough."
She clung to him again, breathing in the familiar scent she'd feared she would never smell again.
A knock sounded at the door.
Lena looked up.
It was Moody—standing quietly with a receipt in his hand, eyes meeting hers with a gentle smile.
"All sorted," he said simply.
Lena wiped her tears, her voice shaking. "Moody…why are you doing all this?"
He leaned against the doorframe, his expression soft.
"Because," he said, "true friends don't run when things get hard."
Mr Skye lifted an eyebrow. "Friend, huh?" he muttered, studying Moody with a suspicious but approving look.
Moody chuckled. "For now, sir."
Lena blinked. "For now?"
Moody winked. "We'll talk about it…in the future."
Her heart skipped—just once, but loud enough for her to hear it.