5. The Unspoken Bond

Adrian stood by the door, watching Elysia with an unreadable expression. The divorce papers were now signed, and the weight of the decision hung between them like a fragile thread.

“That’s a good decision,” he said finally, his voice low, but there was an undeniable softness in it. A part of him seemed to understand exactly what she was going through. He seemed to know the pain in her heart, the confusion, the endless ache. He’d felt it before.

He didn’t speak further, but for a moment, his gaze lingered on her, as if trying to communicate something unspoken, something more than just business, something buried in the depths of his own heart. A shared understanding of loss. A shared pain that they both wore like shadows, even though neither had ever spoken of it before.

He stepped back, breaking the silence. “Get some rest. You’ve had a rough day.” His voice was quiet, almost gentle. It wasn’t his usual tone, the cold, calculating man who took what he wanted without hesitation. This was a side of Adrian that no one had seen before—a side that Elysia could hardly reconcile with the ruthless businessman who had just secured his place in her life.

With a final look at her, he turned and left the room, taking the signed divorce papers with him. The door clicked softly behind him, leaving Elysia alone in the stark white room, surrounded by the sterile silence that had been her constant companion since the night of the accident.

As Adrian left the hospital, the weight of the day seemed to catch up with him. He didn’t go straight home; instead, he drove aimlessly, lost in thoughts that were too heavy to bear. The darkness of the night matched the heaviness in his chest. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was a part of him that was beginning to care about Elysia’s pain, as if he was tethered to her in a way he couldn’t fully explain.

When he finally arrived at his apartment, he didn’t bother with anything—no food, no drink, just the silence that had always been a refuge for him. He sank onto the couch, running a hand through his hair, exhausted from the weight of it all.

Sitting there, in the dim light of his living room, Adrian’s eyes fell on a picture frame sitting on the table beside the couch. It was a photo of him and his mother, a rare moment captured before the world had torn them apart. His mother’s smile was a warmth that Adrian had never forgotten, even when life had given him nothing but coldness.

His heart twisted in his chest as his gaze lingered on the photo. His fingers lightly traced the frame, his thumb brushing over his mother’s smiling face. He could almost feel the warmth of her embrace again, as though she were still there, urging him to make the right choices. But the memories were sharp, painful.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and the memories came rushing back—his father, leaving them for a younger, wealthier woman. Adrian had been just a child, too young to understand, but old enough to feel the betrayal. His mother, pregnant with his younger sister, had begged his father to stay. But the man had walked out on them, leaving them behind in the cold emptiness of a broken home.

His mother had collapsed in her attempts to stop him, dying right there on the doorstep, her body failing her in the face of heartbreak. Adrian had never gotten over it. He never could.

“How can I leave her like that?” he whispered, his voice hoarse, as he stared at the picture. His eyes flickered with a flicker of guilt. “She’s in the situation you were in, Mom... and I can’t just stand by.”

For the first time in years, Adrian let the weight of his past push to the surface, the feelings of abandonment, of his mother’s death, all of it—raw, unfiltered. He had spent years burying that part of him, keeping it locked away. But now, seeing Elysia in her pain, something had cracked open inside him. A recognition, maybe. A connection. It was as if he was seeing her pain through the lens of his own, and that made him wonder if, just maybe, she needed someone who understood.

He leaned back, his eyes closing as he breathed deeply, trying to steady himself. He had never been this affected by anyone before. Elysia’s vulnerability, her brokenness, felt too familiar, too much like his own.

The next morning, Elysia woke to an unfamiliar smell—the scent of fresh flowers, sweet and calming. Her eyes fluttered open, and she saw a vase of roses on the small table beside her bed, their soft petals bathed in the early morning light. Along with the flowers, there was a small box of chocolates with a handwritten note attached to it. She picked it up slowly, her fingers trembling as she read the simple words.

“Get well soon. You’re not alone.”

It was signed by Adrian.

Elysia’s heart stuttered in her chest. He had sent her flowers? After everything? She couldn’t understand it. She stared at the note for a long moment before the door opened with a soft click.

A nurse entered with a tray of food, smiling kindly as she set it down on the table. “Good morning, Mrs. Carter. How are you feeling today? Would you like some breakfast?”

Elysia shook her head, her stomach turning at the thought of food. She hadn’t been able to eat properly since the accident. Nothing tasted right, nothing felt real anymore.

“I’m not hungry,” she muttered, her voice soft but firm.

Before the nurse could respond, a voice came from behind her. “You have to eat.”

Elysia turned her head, meeting Adrian’s gaze. He stood by the door, his arms crossed as he looked at her with an intensity she couldn’t decipher. There was something different about him today—something more... vulnerable. It wasn’t the same ruthless Adrian she had met in the hospital room. This man, standing there now, was someone who understood more than he let on.

“We have a big fight coming soon,” Adrian said, his voice calm and authoritative, but there was an undercurrent of something more personal. “You need to regain your strength.”

Elysia couldn’t help but scoff softly. “I don’t deserve to eat,” she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Adrian’s eyes softened, and he stepped forward, sitting down in the chair beside her bed. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched her with those eyes of his that seemed to know more than anyone should. Then, after a moment, he spoke again, his voice quieter.

“Elysia,” he began, his tone gentle yet firm, “it wasn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. You deserve to eat. Everyone does. Don’t punish yourself.”

For a moment, Elysia looked at him, the words swirling in her mind, but none of them seemed to be enough to counter the truth of what he’d said. Adrian’s words hung in the air between them, heavy and meaningful, and for the first time in days, she felt like she wasn’t entirely alone.

She met his gaze, and something shifted inside her—a realization, a fleeting moment of connection.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice so soft it was almost lost to the silence.

Adrian simply nodded, the look in his eyes unreadable, yet oddly comforting.