The following days in Room Sapphire unfolded like a gentle rhythm. Mornings were filled with nurses checking vitals, afternoons with doctors making rounds, and evenings with the softer hum of families talking to their loved ones.
For Ralt, time seemed to slow. His days revolved around his mother's needs-fetching her meals, helping her adjust her pillows, keeping her company through the night. He told himself that was enough, that it was all that mattered. Yet every time his eyes wandered across the room and caught sight of Princess, quietly laughing at her grandfather's jokes or carefully writing in her notebook, he felt a weight shift inside him-something unspoken, something he dared not name.
For Princess, the hospital days felt oddly stretched, like a pause from her young, busy life as a nursing student. She was used to caring for her grandfather, used to responsibility. But here, in Room Sapphire, responsibility came with something she had not expected-the occasional warmth in her chest whenever she felt Ralt's gaze, whenever she overheard Elena speaking about him.
One quiet afternoon, Eli leaned back against his pillows, eyes bright with mischief.
"You know, Elena, this granddaughter of mine-she can be stubborn as a mule. But she's got her mother's smile. That's what makes it hard to scold her."
Princess wrinkled her nose, embarrassed. "Lolo, must you?"
It was during one of those conversations, when the air was light and filled with memory, that Eli's eyes drifted to his granddaughter.
"You know, Elena," he said thoughtfully, "this girl here-Princess-she's the light of my old age."
Princess rolled her eyes with a shy smile. "Lolo..." she murmured, embarrassed by the sudden attention.
But Eli wasn't deterred. He looked back at Elena, as if eager to share the pride swelling in his chest.
"She lost her parents early. My son-God bless his soul-and her mother were taken in that car accident when she was only ten. From then on, she's been with me. At first, I thought I'd be the one taking care of her, but truth is, she ended up taking care of me."
Elena's hand stilled on her teacup. Her eyes softened, and she glanced at Princess with newfound tenderness. "I'm sorry to hear that, Eli. But I can see... she grew into a fine young lady."
Princess ducked her head, her pen frozen mid-note. She wasn't used to being spoken about so openly.
"She's studying nursing now," Eli continued, his voice tinged with pride. "First year in college. She wants to serve people, she says. Maybe it's because she spent so much of her childhood in hospitals-visiting me for my hypertension, helping out with medicines. She learned to be strong in ways I never imagined."
As Eli spoke, Ralt found himself stealing glances at Princess. Nursing student. First year. Only eighteen. That explained her youthful energy, her way of moving quickly but carefully around her grandfather. For the first time, he felt he was seeing beyond her gestures-into her life, her hardships, her choices.
Princess, on the other hand, didn't dare lift her eyes. Yet inside, something stirred. She wondered if Ralt was listening. She wondered what he thought of her story.
Eli continue, "When she was in high school, she had the chance to join her classmates on a trip to Manila. A week of fun, she told me. But when the day came, she refused to go. She said she didn't want to leave me alone at home. Can you imagine? At sixteen, making choices like that?"
Elena's brows rose, admiration in her eyes. "That's rare in the young these days," she said softly.
Ralt, leaning against the wall, felt his chest tighten. He hadn't known this girl beyond her role as a caregiver in the ward. Yet the more her grandfather spoke, the more she became real to him-a girl who had lost parents, who had given up her own pleasures, who had stayed because love bound her stronger than curiosity for the world.
Princess felt his eyes on her, and her cheeks warmed. She lowered her gaze quickly, but a thought bloomed in her chest: He heard. He knows now.
Later that evening, when the ward was dim and the nurses moved more quietly, Elena took her turn to share.
"You know, Eli," she said, her hand brushing the edge of her blanket, "Ralt has been my strength all these years. Ever since his father passed, he's carried the weight of our little family."
Ralt, sitting near the foot of the bed, looked up suddenly. "Nanay..." he muttered softly, not wanting her to go on. But Elena only smiled knowingly.
"He won't say it himself," she continued, ignoring his protest. "But when his father died, he was barely in his twenties. He had just started working then. Instead of thinking of himself, he chose to take care of me. Every medicine, every doctor's appointment, every little bill-he shouldered them all."
Eli leaned forward, nodding with understanding. "Ah... a good son. That's rare, Elena. You raised him well."
Princess listened intently, her eyes flicking toward Ralt without meaning to. She hadn't realized he had carried so much responsibility. To her, he had seemed almost distant, quiet, maybe even a little cold. But hearing his mother's words painted him differently: a man who had known loss, who had put aside his own youth for duty.
Elena went on, her voice tinged with a mother's pride. "He's forty now, still unmarried. People ask me why, and I tell them-it's because his heart was too busy caring for me. He never complained, never thought of himself. Sometimes I wish he had been selfish, just a little. But that's Ralt. Always steady, always silent."
Ralt shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Princess before lowering his eyes. He didn't want her to see him this way-laid bare by his mother's words.
Yet Princess, despite her youth, felt something stir inside her chest. She didn't smile, didn't speak, but her mind replayed Elena's words over and over: Always steady, always silent.
The next morning, the conversations continued.
Eli was telling Elena how Princess insisted on studying in the province instead of moving to the city.
"She said she wanted to stay near me, so she could visit often. Can you imagine that? An eighteen-year-old, choosing her old grandfather over city life?"
Princess blushed furiously. "Lolo, stop it, please," she whispered.
But Elena was charmed. "That's love," she said softly. "You must be proud, Eli. She's young, but she already knows sacrifice."
Across the room, Ralt's gaze lingered on Princess. He thought about how rare it was, for someone so young to choose family over freedom. It echoed something in him-his own story of setting aside youth for duty.
And perhaps Princess felt the same echo, for when she dared to glance at Ralt, their eyes met. Just for a heartbeat. But this time, neither looked away immediately.
Elena add, "He's always been like this," she said, smiling faintly. "Quiet. He was never the boy who shouted for attention, never the one who went chasing after every girl. No. He was always thinking, always worrying about tomorrow. When his father passed, he could have crumbled. But instead, he stood. He took two jobs just to keep us afloat. There were nights I'd wake and see him still awake, counting money, figuring out how to pay the bills. He thought I didn't notice, but mothers always know."
Her voice trembled slightly. "Sometimes I wonder if he missed his chance at happiness because of me."
Silence fell. The kind of silence that pressed deep into the heart.
Princess lifted her head then, her eyes drawn to Ralt. He looked down, his face half in shadow, but the strength his mother spoke of was visible in the set of his shoulders, in the calm steadiness of his presence.
Something inside Princess shifted. She had thought of him only as her patient's quiet son, maybe stern, maybe distant. But now... he was a man who had given up years of his life for love of family. A man who had chosen duty without complaint.
And in her eighteen-year-old heart, still fresh and idealistic, sacrifice was the highest form of love.
The next day, Eli shared something that surprised even Princess.
"Did you know, Elena, that this granddaughter of mine is afraid of hospitals?" he said with a chuckle.
Princess snapped her head up. "Lolo!"
"It's true," Eli insisted. "When she was younger, she couldn't bear the smell of disinfectant, the sight of needles. She would cry when the nurse came near me with injections. But look at her now-training to be a nurse. She turned her fear into strength."
Elena smiled warmly. "Ah, that's courage. Turning weakness into something that helps others."
Ralt glanced at Princess, and this time, she dared to meet his gaze. For the briefest moment, their eyes locked-his calm, hers unsure yet shining-and neither looked away immediately. It was as if the stories told about them had built a bridge neither expected.
Later, as dusk painted the sky in shades of violet, Elena spoke again.
"Eli, if I'm being honest... I sometimes worry about Ralt being alone. I dream of seeing him with someone before I go. Someone who can look after him, just as he has looked after me."
Ralt shifted uncomfortably, his ears burning. "Nanay, please..."
But Elena only smiled, her words lingering in the air like a quiet wish.
Princess lowered her gaze quickly, her heart thudding. She told herself not to think, not to imagine. He was forty, she was eighteen. He belonged to another world entirely. Yet... why did her heart refuse to listen?
Days passed, and Room Sapphire became their shared stage of quiet revelations. Each story, each laugh, each memory spoken by Elena and Eli wove threads between Ralt and Princess without their conscious consent.
Sometimes, when both elders had fallen asleep, Ralt would sit near the window, staring out into the night. And Princess, finishing her notes on her grandfather's vitals, would glance toward him. Their words were scarce, but their silences grew louder-filled with questions neither dared to voice.
He has lived through so much, she thought.
She's so young, but her heart is already so strong, he thought.
And somewhere between the passing of days, the simple ward named Sapphire had become something else: a space where two generations rediscovered old bonds... and where two souls, worlds apart in age and life, began to notice each other in the most unexpected way.