The sun was already high when Talia stepped into the quiet hospital wing, the click of her heels echoing faintly against the white-tiled floor. Her fingers tightened around the bouquet of lilies she brought every week—Jade's favorite, even though he hadn't seen them in years.
Room 412 hadn't changed.
Sterile. Still. Sad.
She inhaled deeply, then exhaled as she pushed the door open.
Jade Rivers lay motionless, just as he had for the past five years. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound that proved time was still passing. His dark hair had grown, carefully trimmed by the nurses. His face had matured into that of a young man, no longer the boy she remembered chasing around their old garden.
But his eyes remained closed. Always closed.
"Hey, Jade," she whispered, placing the flowers in the vase beside his bed. "It's me again. I brought lilies this time. I remember how you said mom used to love them."
She sat beside him and reached for his hand—warm, soft, but limp. The weight of memory fell heavily on her chest.
She was only fifteen when he was rushed in that night—broken, bleeding, unconscious. A car accident, they said. He'd been trying to get to her, the police claimed. But what had he been running from?
That night haunted her.
He had called her. Desperate. Breathless.
Talia, listen to me. There's something you need to know. It's about—
Then nothing. A crash. Screams. Sirens.
And silence ever since.
Talia swallowed, trying to force back the familiar burn of tears. She brushed his hand gently, voice barely above a breath.
"I wish you'd wake up. I need you. More than ever."
The contract with Liam had changed everything. She hadn't told Jade, not that he could respond. But she could feel the weight of it press down on her every time she stepped into this room. She was no longer just the forgotten daughter or the family embarrassment.
She was Mrs. Liam Westwood. Even if it was all pretend.
She stood, brushing imaginary dust from her skirt. "I met him, by the way. Liam Westwood. He's… different. Quiet. Too cold. But I think… I think he's hurting too."
She didn't know why she said it aloud. Maybe because this was the only place she could be honest.
There was a light knock at the door.
Agnes peeked in, her smile soft but tired. "I figured you'd still be here."
Talia smiled faintly. "It's Thursday."
"I brought you coffee," Agnes said, handing her a warm cup as she stepped inside.
"Thanks." Talia took it gratefully and sat again. Agnes took the seat opposite, her eyes flickering briefly to Jade.
"Still no change?"
Talia shook her head.
Agnes reached over and gave her knee a gentle squeeze. "He'd be proud of you, you know. You're stronger than you think."
"Am I?" Talia gave a soft, humorless laugh. "Because I feel like I'm suffocating. Marrying a man who barely looks at me, living in a house where I feel like a ghost. And now—Claudia and Bianca are watching me like wolves in expensive jewelry."
Agnes leaned closer, lowering her voice. "You're not safe, Talia. I've known that since the accident."
Talia's heart skipped. "You think it wasn't… random?"
Agnes hesitated. "Jade knew something. You told me he tried to call you that night. Maybe it's connected to your mother. Or the Rivers estate. Or something even darker."
Talia's lips parted slightly. She'd tried for years to connect the dots—to understand why a boy like Jade, sweet and gentle, would end up in such a brutal crash just moments after warning her.
And yet every time she pressed Claudia or Bianca, they dismissed her. Called it delusion. Told her to move on.
But her gut never let her.
"Why would anyone hurt Jade?" Talia whispered.
Agnes looked her in the eye. "Because Jade knew who you really are. And someone didn't want him telling you."
Silence fell between them, heavy as thunderclouds.
Talia turned back to Jade. "I wish you'd said it. Whatever it was."
Agnes reached into her purse and handed Talia a small, worn notebook. "I found this last week. In one of your mother's old boxes. There's a name scribbled inside. Daniel Rivers."
Talia blinked. "My grandfather?"
Agnes nodded. "And there's a photo—faded, but it looks like your mom with two children. Not Bianca."
Talia opened the book, her hands trembling slightly. The picture slid out—blurry, torn, but unmistakable. Her mother. Holding a 5yrs old . A boy with Jade's eyes.
"This… this can't be…"
"It is," Agnes whispered. "And there's more. But we need time. We need to dig."
Talia clutched the photo tightly.
The ground beneath her life had just shifted.
Flashback — Five Years Ago
Talia's laughter echoed through the art studio as she chased after a streak of blue paint Jade had smudged on her cheek. He dodged her half-hearted swipes, holding his hands up in surrender but grinning with mischief.
"You're supposed to be helping me with my sketch, not turning me into a canvas!" she cried, breathless from laughter.
Jade leaned against the table, eyes twinkling. "You take yourself too seriously, Lia. Art is supposed to be messy. Life is messy."
She stuck her tongue out at him before collapsing into the chair beside him. "Maybe. But you always made the mess feel safer."
He glanced at her, his tone softening. "I'll always be here to keep you safe. You know that, right?"
She nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. "Always." that why i will only trust you big brother.you know right?
---
Present
Now, standing beside his hospital bed, watching his still chest rise and fall with machine-guided breaths, Talia whispered, "You promised, Jade. You promised you'd always be here."
What's really going on... Can't i just have a peaceful life... Being stuck in this mess, I can't even play with you anymore jade...
It's really being long, I miss you Jade.. you baby Misses you a lot....