CHAPTER 2
"fate"
My head felt like someone hit it with a brick.
Not enough to kill me.
Just enough to remind me something terrible happened.
The first thing I noticed was the scent — antiseptic, sharp, clean. Then the soft beeping beside me. The thin blanket tucked over my legs. The cold railing of the hospital bed under my palm.
I blinked slowly, my eyes heavy and dry. The ceiling above me was plain, white, too bright for my throbbing head.
Okay… hospital. Right.
Accident.
The memory hit gently, like a wave rolling instead of crashing.
Walking… crossing the street… lights… sound… then nothing.
So this is what waking up after an accident feels like.
My body ached everywhere — arms, ribs, even the muscles behind my eyes.
I took a slow breath.
At least I was alive.
The door opened and a nurse stepped in, smiling the way nurses do when they want patients to feel safe.
"Oh, good morning," she said gently. "How are you feeling?"
"Like my head is mad at me," I croaked.
She laughed softly. "That's normal. You were in an accident yesterday. But you're doing well. You woke up fast."
Yesterday.
Okay. Good. It wasn't worse than that.
I nodded slowly.
"Any pain?" she asked.
"Everything," I answered honestly.
She checked the monitor, adjusted my IV, scribbled something on a chart. Her movements were calm, practiced. Comforting.
"Your doctor will come in later. Rest as much as you can," she said.
When she left, I exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the heaviness sitting in my chest. I wasn't scared — just tired. Exhausted in a way sleep couldn't fix yet.
Hours passed in quiet.
Nurses walked in and out.
Mom sat beside me, holding my hand, brushing my hair aside like I was five again.
The room was quiet except for machines and soft voices.
It felt safe. Ordinary. Normal.
Eventually, when my mom dozed off and my legs felt restless, I decided to stretch. Carefully. Slowly.
I stood up, a little shaky, holding onto the railing for balance.
Walking felt strange — like my body forgot how but was trying again.
I pushed the IV stand beside me and stepped into the hallway.
It was bright, calm, peaceful.
Doctors chatting.
Footsteps echoing lightly.
The soft hum of the air conditioner.
Just a hospital.
Just a normal day after a very bad one.
I followed a faint buzzing sound and ended up near a vending machine. The lights inside flickered over rows of snacks and drinks. The dull hum of the machine filled the quiet hallway.
That's when I saw him.
He stood in front of the vending machine, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a drink he just bought. He looked relaxed, leaning slightly against the wall like he had all the time in the world.
Tall. Clean-cut.
Soft dark hair falling a little over his forehead.
Calm eyes — the kind that felt safe just by existing.
He didn't notice me at first. I hesitated, leaning on my IV stand like it was my life support. Well, technically it kind of was.
He finally looked up.
Our eyes met.
For a second, everything just… paused.
Not dramatically.
Just a quiet stillness, like the world took a breath with me.
He gave a polite smile, nothing over the top, just warm and natural.
"You okay?" he asked, voice quiet but gentle.
I blinked. "Trying to be."
He nodded like that made perfect sense. "Accident?"
I glanced at the bandage on my arm and the tape on my skin. "Yeah. Yesterday."
"That's rough," he said, picking up his drink. "Glad you're up and walking."
There was no pity in his voice. Just genuine concern, simple and real. That felt nice — normal.
He tapped the vending machine lightly. "Want something? I can help if you don't feel steady."
"I don't even know if I can chew without crying," I admitted.
He chuckled, not loudly, but enough to soften the air between us. "Water then? It's a safe start."
I nodded. "Water sounds good."
He pressed the button, paid for it before I could stop him, and handed me the bottle.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"No problem." His smile grew a little. "Hospitals suck. Hydration helps."
Simple. Casual.
Like we were just two strangers sharing a moment beside a vending machine.
And somehow…
It felt comforting.
"I'm Liam, by the way," he added.
"Fall," I replied.
"Nice name."
I shrugged. "Depends on the day."
He laughed — soft, natural, easy. The kind of laugh that doesn't ask for attention.
"Well," he said, pushing himself off the wall, "hope you recover fast, Fall."
"Hope you… do whatever you're here for," I awkwardly said back.
Smooth.
Injured, dizzy, and still embarrassing myself. What a combination.
He just smiled, nodded, and walked down the hallway, hands in pockets, footsteps quiet.
I watched him go, for a moment forgetting the pain in my head and the heaviness in my body.
Not love at first sight.
Not butterflies.
Just… curiosity.
A gentle pull.
Like a page of something about to start.
I didn't know him.
He didn't know me.
But somehow, meeting him made the hospital feel less cold.
I took a slow breath, holding the cool water bottle in my hand.
Maybe today wasn't just a recovery day.
Maybe something else began here too.
Like a love story?
To be continued...