“I understand.”
The police officer nodded to them and left, closing the door behind him.
Now only Emily Blair and Tristan Davis remained in the hospital room.
Emily was the first to break the silence. “How’s Alex White?”
Tristan pulled up a chair and sat down beside her, fingers laced together, his eyes steady on her face. “He’s doing better than you. Woke up a couple days ago. You, on the other hand, spent three days and nights in the ICU. You even had to be rushed to the ER twice.”
Emily opened her mouth but couldn’t find any words.
For some reason, she thought she could hear a trace of anger in Tristan’s voice.
“Well, that’s good to hear,” she said, glancing at Tristan. “What about my mom and Elizabeth Wilson?”
Tristan’s tone grew suddenly distant. “I texted them earlier. They’re already on their way.”
She shot him another glance. Even though his expression was blank, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in a foul mood.
She hesitated, then asked, “I heard you’ve been here the whole time. Haven’t slept properly in days?”
Tristan only grunted in response, not bothering to elaborate.
Emily grew anxious. “The doctors said I’m out of danger now. You don’t have to worry. Go get some rest, okay?”
She meant it out of concern, but Tristan’s face darkened visibly—so much that she couldn’t pretend not to notice.
She wanted to ask why, but before she could, Tristan’s voice cut through the air, sharp and accusing.
“You keep asking about everyone else. Have you ever stopped to ask about yourself?”
Emily stared at him, bewildered. “I—”
He looked both exhausted and angry. “And now that you’re awake, you’re trying to send me away?”


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