The scent of hospital disinfectant clung to Eira's hoodie as she stepped into her father's room, her heart thudding louder than her footsteps. For days, she had walked this corridor with dread — bracing for updates, clutching hope like it was glass in her palms, fragile and ready to break.
But today felt different.
Her father was sitting up in bed, sunlight pouring through the window and warming his face. He had color in his cheeks, a grin that reached both eyes, and a half-eaten apple in his hand.
"Hey, sweetheart," he greeted, waving the apple. "Took you long enough."
Eira rushed to him, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. "Dad!"
She hugged him tight, careful not to disturb any of the wires or monitors still attached.
"You look... healthy.Where is mom?" she asked, pulling back with teary eyes.
"She went to buy some food for me.Doctor said I'm on the road to recovery," he replied, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear the way he always did when she was little. "I might even be discharged by tonight."
Eira beamed. "That's... that's amazing."
She wanted to laugh, to cry, to dance down the hallway. For what she'd prayed, begged quietly beneath her breath every night — and today, it felt like that God has finally answered.
After spending some time chatting with her dad, hearing his jokes and stories — and of course, his complaints about hospital food — Eira excused herself to go talk to the doctor.
On her way down the hallway toward the waiting area, she passed a boy seated in a chair near the window. Something about him caught her attention — the quiet way he held himself, the focus in his gaze as he read.
Her steps slowed.
Her eyes widened.
He was reading her book.
Her writer name — Elina white — was printed on the cover of the paperback in his hands.
She stopped completely, staring.
She had published that book a year ago.It was not her best but her personal favorite novel.It was a contemporary novel that had gained a small, loyal following online, but it wasn't some mainstream hit. The chances of randomly seeing someone reading it — in a hospital of all places — were near impossible.
But here he was.
A boy looked a bit younger than her,looked really handsome, wearing a black jacket with a black tshirt underneath and dark jeans with glasses, completely absorbed in her words.
Her heart skipped.
She considered saying something — asking him what he thought, pretending to notice the book casually — but before she could make a move, a nurse called out from the hallway.
"Auren?"
The boy looked up and stood. In his haste, he forgot the book, leaving it on the seat as he walked away toward the nurse.
Eira blinked, watching him disappear around the corner.
Then she looked at the seat again.
Her book sat there, slightly bent at the spine, like it had been read more than a few chapters in.
A tiny wave of disappointment rolled over her. He forgot it.
She stepped forward, hesitated, then picked it up.
Her fingers ran over the cover. Her name. Her story.
And the boy who had been reading it.
---
Later, after her appointment with the doctor — who confirmed that her dad could indeed go home tonight — Eira returned to the waiting area to head back.
That's when she saw him again.
The boy — Auren — was standing near the bookshelf in the corner of the room, browsing quietly. He had another book in hand, one she recognized from the same genre as hers. Apparently, he had good taste.
She walked up slowly.
"Hey," she said.
He looked up, eyes a soft shade of gray, a little startled.
"You forgot something," she said, holding up the book he had left behind.
His expression softened instantly. "Oh, sorry — I totally didn't realize."
He took the book from her hands gently, looking at it like it was familiar and new at the same time. "I was in a rush. Thank you."
"You were pretty into it," she said with a playful smile.
He chuckled softly, smiling warmly . "Yeah. It's really good."
"Well," she said, pointing at the cover, "I hope so."
He blinked. "What do you mean?"
She tapped her name on the front. "That's me. I'm the author."
His eyes widened. "Oh - is that so?"
Eira nodded.
"Wow," he said, staring at her with new interest, like he was trying to connect the person in front of him to the story he'd been reading.
"You're really good," he added, voice a little quieter now. "The way you write... it feels interesting. Like someone's talking to me directly."
Eira's cheeks warmed. "Thank you. That means a lot."
There was a pause.
"I'm Auren,Auren Silva" he said, offering a small but warm smile.
"I know," she replied, then quickly added, "The nurse called your name earlier. I wasn't stalking you, promise."
He actually smiled at that — a warm, low sound that made her smile wider.
"So," she asked, curiosity getting the better of her, "what were you doing at the hospital?"
At that, something shifted in Auren's eyes. He glanced away, shoulders stiffening just slightly.
"Nothing serious," he said, voice a bit too casual. "Just... visiting someone."
Eira tilted her head. "Someone close?"
He hesitated. "Something like that."
Before she could press further, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and sighed.
"I have to go," he said, stepping back. "But... thanks again. For the book. And for writing it."
She watched him go — the quiet way he moved, the gentle way he spoke. He didn't offer much, but what little he did say felt honest.
He left behind only a lingering thought.
Eira stood there, book still in hand, smiling to herself.
She liked him.
Just a little.
---