Chapter 15

I woke up in the ICU four hours later, a ventilator preventing me from speaking. My body didn't ache as much as before, but I could hardly feel anything, perhaps due to the influence of medication.

I could see Lana standing in front of the wide window of the ICU room. She was talking to a doctor, one hand covering her mouth, and tears still streaming down her face. Various machines surrounded my bed, their synchronized sounds making me feel like an alien.

I attempted to move my fingers slowly to remove the breathing aid, but my entire body still felt stiff. It took a few minutes until I could finally open it. The doctor talking to Lana noticed what I was doing, paused, and entered the ICU room, followed by a nurse and Lana behind.

"Miss Heather?" He stood beside me, examining both of my eyes with a small flashlight. "Are you still in pain? I'll increase the dosage if you are."

I shook my head. Lana stood in a corner, trying to wipe away her tears with a tissue. "I don't feel pain. What—what is this?" I asked with a hoarse voice, pointing at several machine tubes connected to my body.

The nurse next to me was changing my IV bag. The doctor seemed hesitant for a moment before answering, "You'll need to stay in the ICU for the next three days. Your liver is damaged quite severely, so for now, you'll have to use a device to assist your liver."

"Damaged? What does that mean?"

"Miss Morrel informed me that the assailant kicked your stomach several times very forcefully, causing severe damage to your liver, almost to the point of splitting."

I stared at him blankly for a few seconds. "Split?" My throat felt even drier with every word I spoke.

"Almost. However, we still have to wait for the next three days. If the situation worsens, you'll need surgery." He smiled with a reassuring expression before speaking again, "I'll check on you again in 3 hours. If you need anything, just press that button." He pointed to the blue button next to my bed before leaving. I nodded, his previous words still echoing in my mind.

Oh, damn. I can't remember how much is left in my savings this month. Being in the ICU and potential surgery sound terrifying, and... expensive.

Lana walked over to my bedside, her face slightly tense as she tried to smile. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, are you okay? You don't look any better than me, Lana."

She wiped the corner of her previously injured lip and winced. "Just a little torn. The doctor told me about—about—"

"He told me too. I guess I have to have surgery in 3 days." I mumbled, trying to roll my eyes, even though it felt a bit painful. I didn't want to worry Lana further. "What about... that guy?"

"He's still in surgery. I think he has a brain concussion."

"Whoa, good punch, Lana," I replied, smiling.

She chuckled before tearing up again, "Ella, I shouldn't have left you alone."

"If you didn't leave me, we might still be tied up there. It's not your fault, okay?"

She nodded slightly. "Are you going back to the apartment tonight?"

"No... the place is probably still swarming with police right now. You know how many police came? 24 people. And 3 ambulances." She laughed a little. "They even had to queue to get into our apartment."

"How—How is that possible?"

"Seems like some people from our building collectively called the police after hearing screams." Lana looked better after laughing. "My dad picked me up an hour ago; I might stay in a hotel tonight."

"Oh... good. Send my regards to him." I pretended to yawn so Lana could leave sooner and rest.

"I'll check on you again early tomorrow morning. Unfortunately, they didn't allow me to stay overnight." She replied, pulling a small frown.

I felt touched that Lana considered staying with me tonight. "Of course, this is the ICU, Lana. Maybe after I'm moved to a regular room, they'll allow it."

She smiled again, then kissed my forehead. "Until tomorrow morning, Ella."

"Okay, bye." I returned her smile until she disappeared behind the door. From the ICU window, I could see Lana hugging her father before they left. Even though their relationship wasn't perfect, at least Lana still had someone to hug in moments like this.

I took a deep breath to swallow the disappointment that choked my throat. For the first time in years, I felt incredibly, incredibly lonely.

Due to the influence of medication, I fell asleep again a few times before waking up, then sleeping again. Vaguely, I heard people talking from a distance, then silence again. I tried to open my heavy eyelids but surrendered when drowsiness took over.

A while later, the sound of someone speaking angrily woke me up, this time I forced my eyes open. The voice seemed to get closer as the doorknob of my room turned and opened.

"Sir, you can't just enter like this, and it's not visiting hours!"

I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw Nicholas Shaw standing in the doorway looking a bit breathless. One of his hands still held the doorknob, and his face was pale, staring at me.

Slowly, he let go of the doorknob and closed the door behind him, muffling the nurse scolding him. He walked slowly towards me, stopping at my bedside. A few strands of his disheveled hair fell over his eyes as he leaned down to look at me.

I wasn't aware of when my heart started pounding harder, but the beeping of my heart rate monitor next to me sped up too. I observed his face; he seemed tense, panicky, and... worried. Very worried, as I could see in his two aging blue eyes now fixed on me.

"Hey," I greeted with a hoarse voice. I swallowed before speaking again, "What are you doing here?"

He didn't answer me, his eyes roaming over my entire covered body before glancing at the machines next to my bed and then back at my face. He approached again, almost sticking to the edge of my bed. His hand lifted to touch my face, but what he did almost made me shift my gaze away from his expression.

I had never seen anyone look at me the way Nicholas Shaw was looking at me right now. His thumb touched the wound on my face so gently that I could hardly feel it.

"I'm okay," I mumbled.

He withdrew his hand from me before answering, "Because I wasn't there when you needed me."

Suddenly, I felt like crying for no clear reason. I bit my lip, trying to smile at him. "It's not your fault, Mr. Shaw. It has nothing to do with you at all."

"Everything related to you is related to me too." He held my hand with one of his hands, squeezing it gently. "I almost lost..." He didn't finish his sentence; he didn't need to. What I saw in his two eyes right now was enough to tell me.

And I felt... I felt safe. All the loneliness I had felt earlier evaporated just like that. Because I knew I wasn't alone anymore

I'm not alone anymore.

Those words felt foreign to me. I had grown accustomed to being alone in the orphanage or in foster care... until I met Lana. But watching her father arrive after hearing about this incident, for a brief moment, I felt a twinge of envy. I had never had someone do that for me—come only for me, just to make sure I was okay.

Yet, Nicholas Shaw had traveled 2000 miles... just for me.

"You should rest," he murmured with a half-whisper after we remained silent for a while. His thumb continued to caress my hand gently.

"You too," I replied without shifting my gaze away from him. "You look a mess, Mr. Shaw."

"Nicholas."

"What?" I looked at him a bit puzzled.

"Call me Nicholas."

My room's door opened before I could respond to his request, and the doctor who attended to me returned with two nurses. One of them was the same nurse who scolded Mr. Shaw earlier.

"I'd like to see the results of Miss Heather's examination." Mr. Shaw let go of my hand slowly and directed his attention to the doctor.

"Sir, you can't enter without permission! Please leave and come back tomorrow—"

"I want to see it. Now." Mr. Shaw repeated, this time with an authoritative tone. The doctor stared at Mr. Shaw with a frown, while the nurse next to him was almost glaring with anger.

I would have chuckled if my stomach didn't hurt so much. Both nurses left my room after a brief discussion with the doctor. They shot Mr. Shaw annoyed glances before exiting.

"I want to talk to you outside so that Miss Heather can rest." The doctor urged Mr. Shaw out of my room, the two nurses who accompanied him earlier returned and engaged me in small talk. They injected something into my IV bottle and left again after checking on me.

My eyelids gradually felt heavy; I could see the doctor still talking to Mr. Shaw from the ICU room window. But I couldn't see Mr. Shaw; I guessed he was standing behind the door right now.

Why were they talking for so long? My eyelids became even heavier, and eventually, I gave in and fell asleep.