Crazy Stalker

The hospital room was quiet, save for the faint beeping of the monitors. Joaquin lay in the bed, his face pale but peaceful, a bandage wrapped around his side.

The doctors had assured us that the wound wasn’t deep, but he had lost a significant amount of blood, necessitating an overnight stay for observation. I sat by his bedside, holding his hand, my mind racing with everything that had happened.

Ethan had worked quickly to block the news from reaching the media, preventing any commotion that might alert Joaquin’s father. He stood by the window, speaking in low tones with hospital staff and making sure everything was handled discreetly.

I squeezed Joaquin’s hand gently, the events replaying in my mind. He had rushed to protect me without a second thought, and the thought of him being hurt because of me was almost too much to bear.

I worried about the state Joaquin’s beloved bachelor pad, unsure if I had turned off the stove in the chaos. But Ethan had reassured me that the officers ha