Jenny woke up to the scent of antiseptic and the soft hum of machines. Her vision was blurry, her body heavy. As her eyes adjusted, she saw two familiar figures beside her—her parents. Her mother was wiping tears, her father sat stiffly, worry etched deep into his brow.
“Why am I here?” Jenny croaked, her throat dry. “What happened?”
Her mother grasped her hand gently. “Sweetheart, one of the doctors from your hospital found you unconscious on the beach. You’ve been asleep for nearly twenty-four hours.”
Jenny furrowed her brow, trying to remember. But the effort triggered a sharp pain behind her eyes, and she winced. Her father quickly called for the attending physician.
Doctor Adam entered the room with quiet calm. He examined her carefully, then spoke in a kind but firm tone. “You need rest, Jenny. You’re physically exhausted… and carrying too much stress. Please let your body heal.”
Her parents nodded, encouraging her to relax. That evening, they prepared to leave for the night to reopen their family store. “We’ll be back tomorrow,” her mother promised, brushing a strand of hair from her daughter’s face.
After they left, Jenny lay in silence, staring at the white hospital wall. Slowly, the memories came rushing back—the airport, Dianne’s words, the wedding photo, the crashing waves. Her heart clenched, and a sob escaped her lips.
Unbeknownst to her, Doctor Adam was walking past her room. Hearing the soft cry, he paused. His hand hovered at the doorframe.
He’d known something was wrong the moment he saw her leave work yesterday, bottle in hand. Jenny never drank. He had followed at a distance, alarm growing with every step. When he found her collapsed on the beach, soaked and unconscious, fear overtook him. He had carried her to safety, administered first aid, and made sure the nurses cared for her before fading into the background—unseen, but deeply concerned.
Now, he stood at her door, torn. He wanted to step in, but knew Jenny had always been private. And though he had admired her from afar, he respected the distance she kept because of the man she once waited for.
Still, the image of her lying lifeless in the rain haunted him. Someone let her break like this, he thought bitterly.
Taking a quiet breath, he knocked gently and stepped inside.
Jenny turned toward the sound. Her eyes were red, cheeks damp, her lips trembling. She didn’t speak.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Just checking in… how are you feeling?”
She didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m fine,” she whispered hoarsely.
Adam knew she wasn’t—but he also knew she wasn’t ready to talk. So, instead of pressing her, he gave her the gift of space.
“I’ll let you rest,” he said gently, his gaze lingering a moment longer before he turned to leave.
Outside the room, nurses exchanged glances. Whispers floated through the corridor. Word had spread that Jenny was found unconscious, and questions were swirling—not just about what had happened, but also about the doctor who had carried her in with soaked clothes and panic in his eyes.
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