I woke up in an unfamiliar place. I immediately sat up and looked around in confusion. Everything was white. But it didn't take long for me to realize where I was when I noticed the medical equipment beside the bed.
I was in a hospital.
Wait—why was I here?
Panic rushed back the moment Francis came to mind. I got out of bed and tried to take a step forward, only to stumble. I frowned, surprised at how weak my body felt, as if my bones and muscles had been drained of strength.
"Ate, are you okay?"
The door suddenly opened and Jen rushed in, carrying a plastic bag. She quickly helped me up and guided me back onto the bed.
"Your body probably hasn't fully recovered yet, Ate. Please don't force yourself," she said before turning away. Moments later, she opened the plastic bag. Inside was a paper bag and a small plate with a spoon.
"Eat first, Ate. It's still warm."
She transferred the contents of the paper bag onto the plate—rice and pakbet—then handed it to me.
"I'm sorry, Ate. This is all I managed to cook today," she added with a shy smile.
I let out a small laugh and accepted the plate with a smile of my own. As I ate, I couldn't stop wondering where Francis was and what condition he was in. I didn't want to worry too much—but I couldn't help it. Lost in thought, my appetite slowly faded until I set the spoon down, the food barely touched.
"You're thinking about Sir Francis, aren't you?" Jen said softly, as if she had read my mind.
I looked at her, and her smile widened.
"He's there," she explained. "He was transferred to the bigger hospital in town. His condition was too serious to be handled here. Tomorrow afternoon, he'll be taken back to Manila for further treatment."
"M-malapit ba… malala ba ang lagay niya?" I tried to keep the worry out of my voice, but I failed.
"He lost a lot of blood, Ate. And he has a serious head injury, so they really need to take him to Manila," she answered.
I swallowed hard, clenching my fists as fear, guilt, and anger twisted inside me.
"You'll be discharged later this afternoon, Ate," she added.
I simply nodded.
The entire day passed with me doing nothing but gathering information about what had happened. I was restless while waiting for the dashcam footage Ken retrieved from Francis's car. Thankfully, it hadn't been completely damaged and was still usable.
When Ken finally sent the video, I initially found nothing useful. I was about to turn it off when something felt off. The timestamp jumped unnaturally—from 3:20 to 3:50 in the span of a second.
I immediately called Ken and asked about it.
"I don't know anything about that, Gianna. I didn't even notice the video was cut. Don't worry—I'll take care of it," he said.
I ended the call, but the unease refused to leave. I didn't want to suspect Ken—but doubt crept in anyway.
Afternoon passed into night, and soon, morning came again. I decided to visit Francis at the hospital Jen had mentioned. My heart raced with fear—afraid of what I might see.
I slowly opened the door to the room the nurse had pointed out. I swallowed hard as I stepped inside and saw Francis lying unconscious on the bed. Half of his head was wrapped in bandages, and the bruises on his face and lips made my chest ache even more.
I walked closer, frozen by the sight of him.
Anger at myself welled up, but tears spilled just as quickly.
I was hurting—but I didn't know why.
Or maybe I did know, and I just refused to admit it—that I was hurting because I still cared.
I held his hand and stared at his peaceful face.
"You're such an asshole… and this is what happens to you?" I let out a weak laugh. "Why are you like this? You always hurt the people who love you."
I tightened my grip on his hand.
"Why do you keep hurting me? Do you know how painful it is? I almost couldn't take it anymore. But in the end, I'm the only one who gets hurt. You? You don't care at all. You're such a jerk. You know that?"
I paused, taking a deep breath.
"So please… wake up."
The tears I had been holding back finally fell. I held his hand with both of mine and sank to my knees beside the bed.
"Wake up… you're hard to kill, right? Don't die," I sobbed. "Wake up… even if it's just for me."
My voice broke into a whisper. I wanted to stop crying—I was afraid of getting hurt again. But a part of me whispered that, just this once, I shouldn't lie to myself.
Because I knew—I still hadn't moved on from him.
"I miss you…"
I froze when I heard that familiar voice.
Slowly, I lifted my head. His eyes were open. A faint smile curved on his lips.
Startled, I stood up too quickly and accidentally hit his injured hand.
"Aww… that hurts," he groaned.
"You're not dead?" I blurted out.
"Earlier you wanted me to wake up, and now you want me dead?" he said weakly. "Is that your way of saying you were worried about me?"
He laughed—then winced in pain.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, turning to leave.
He groaned again, making me look back. He was holding his head as if it hurt.
"Are you okay? Should I call a doctor?" I asked in rapid succession, stopping only when I realized how close my face was to his.
I quickly stepped back and cleared my throat, making him chuckle.
"You're cute," he said.
My heart skipped, but I forced myself to ignore it.
"I'm leaving if you don't need anything else," I said, stepping away—until he grabbed my hand.
"I'm sorry… for everything," he said. "I know what I did was wrong, even if I had my reasons."
He pulled me closer.
"I'm sorry, Gianna. I won't ask you to trust me again right away. But please… give me a second chance."
I couldn't speak. Not a single word came out.
"Gianna… please—"
"Are you done?" I finally said.
He looked surprised but said nothing as I pulled my hand away.
"There's nothing left for us to talk about. It's over, right?" I said quietly. "Please… don't give me hope again. Don't hurt me again, because maybe…"
My heart wouldn't survive it.
I wanted to leave—but this time, I couldn't. He wrapped his arms around me too quickly.
"Let go of me, Francis!" I snapped, but he only hugged me tighter.
"Please… I don't want this anymore," I confessed. "I tried once, and you hurt me. I'm… I'm afraid to try again."
"Then… if I let you go, would that be better?"
I froze. A part of me didn't want that.
"I don't think so," he said softly. "I'm not letting you go again. Not today. I won't make the same mistake. Not anymore, Gianna. I promise—I'll explain everything once this is over. I'll tell you everything. Please wait for me. Please trust me. You're all I have now."
Those words shattered me.
I broke down completely—crying hard, painfully. I wanted to release all the hurt I had been holding in. I didn't know why it felt like I could finally say everything. I didn't know why I felt safe in his arms. And most of all, I didn't know why it felt like… I had already forgiven him—just from that embrace.
Was I really this weak?
Or was it simply because I loved him that much?
"Please… stay with me."