The soft hum of the hospital lights buzzed overhead, blending with the quiet rustle of sheets as Anne Dwasond shifted slightly in her bed. A week had passed since the chaos, and although her bruises had faded and the pain had dulled, her heart was still adjusting.
Recovery was a strange process—it made her feel both vulnerable and forgotten.
But every morning, without fail, Brian would walk in with a small bag in hand and a smile that never quite reached his eyes.
Today was no different.
"Morning, Miss Dwasond," he greeted, placing the bag on the bedside table. "You're looking a little less pale."
Anne chuckled weakly, reaching for the bag. "Let me guess… more Persimmons?"
Brian said nothing, only gesturing for her to look.
She unzipped it and blinked.
Yep. Persimmons.
Perfectly ripe, sweet-smelling persimmons.
Her eyes widened. "Anyway, how did you know this is my favorite?"
Brian only offered a small smile, standing to adjust the IV drip. "Just a lucky guess."
"Lucky, huh?" Anne narrowed her eyes, chewing slowly. "You don't seem like the guessing type, Brian."
He shrugged nonchalantly, then checked his watch. "I have to head back to the office. Rest up. Doctor says you can go home in a few days."
Anne watched him go, curiosity still swirling in her chest.
___
Just as Brian left, he crossed paths with a girl standing at the hallway corner with arms crossed and suspicious eyes.
Hana.
Anne's best friend. And certified gossip magnet.
"You," Hana said, pointing at Brian like she'd cracked a mystery.
Brian blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You're the one bringing her persimmons every day, right?"
"…Yes?"
Hana stepped closer, her head tilted. "And you're always the one who checks in on her? Why? Who are you? What's your connection to Anne? And that other guy—Rayden, was it? What's going on?"
Brian sighed, clearly used to intrusive questions, and replied dryly, "Miss, I recommend you don't involve yourself in things that aren't your business."
He turned and walked away before Hana could shoot her next question.
But she wasn't done.
Not even close.
___
At the Swiss & Wellington Group headquarters, Brian entered Rayden's office and closed the door behind him.
Rayden didn't even look up from his screen. "Update."
"She's recovering well," Brian reported. "No complications. Doctor said she could be discharged in three days if things continue like this."
Rayden nodded slowly, still reading something on his laptop.
"She ate the persimmons," Brian added, arms crossed.
Finally, Rayden looked up. His expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of… relief?
"And?"
Brian tilted his head. "Can I ask something, sir?"
Rayden raised a brow.
"How did you know that's her favorite fruit?"
Rayden leaned back, eyes growing distant.
"It's in her file," he muttered. "She mentioned it during a school interview. When she was eleven."
Brian stared, lips parting.
He hadn't expected an answer—let alone that answer.
Back at the hospital, Hana sat at Anne's bedside, finally done interrogating the nurses.
"So," she began, her tone light but her eyes sharp. "That Brian guy? Works for Rayden?"
Anne sighed. "Yes."
"And Rayden? He's…?"
Anne took a deep breath, unsure how much she wanted to say. But Hana was her best friend—and she was done hiding.
"He's going to be my husband."
Hana's mouth fell open.
"What?!"
Anne held up a hand. "It's a contract marriage. Two years. Business reasons."
"A contract?" Hana repeated, stunned. "Like, arranged-marriage-in-a-romcom type contract?"
"Yes. No romance, no physical stuff, just… terms."
Hana was quiet for a moment.
Then she shook her head.
"Well, it's insane," she said. "But… I trust you. If this is what you need, I'm in. I'll support you. And also? I'm totally making a secret folder on my phone labeled Spicy CEO Drama."
Anne laughed despite herself, tears pricking her eyes. "Thanks, Hana."
"Anytime, babe... Anyway, I'm sorry I didn't read your massage that day, but I answer immediately after, I even called you, but you didn't answer. I go to your building and Jeff told me you left. I'm really sorry that his happen to you, and i'm glad we still had a chance to meet." Hana started tearing up.
Anne hug her to comfort, never in her life, she blamed Hana for what happen since that day.
Three days later, Anne stood outside the hospital for the first time in a week. The sun warmed her skin as a breeze tugged lightly at her coat.
The bruises were gone. Her ribs still ached slightly, but she could finally walk on her own.
Brian opened the passenger door of the black sedan. "I'll take you home."
"Thanks," Anne murmured, slipping inside.
They didn't speak much on the way back. Just soft music and quiet glances.
Brian made sure she was safely inside her apartment before giving a polite nod and leaving.
Anne locked the door behind her and exhaled.
She was home.
Stillness wrapped around her like a blanket.
She showered, washing off the remnants of hospital air and memories. Her muscles relaxed under the hot stream of water. After wrapping herself in a thick towel, she stepped out into the hallway—
And screamed.
"Jesus!" she yelped.
Rayden stood in her living room, hand still on the door handle.
He froze, eyes wide as they met hers—and then traveled downwards for a brief second before snapping back up.
Anne's cheeks turned crimson. "What are you doing here?!"
"I—" Rayden cleared his throat. "I knocked. No answer. Thought something happened."
"So you barged in?!"
"I have the spare key," he said simply, then quickly turned around to face the wall. "Put something on. We need to talk."
"Ya think?!"
She stomped back into her room, half mortified and half fuming.
Minutes later, she emerged in a loose sweater and sweatpants, her damp hair tucked behind her ears.
Rayden was at the dining table, unpacking takeout containers.
"I brought dinner," he said.
Anne raised a brow but sat down anyway. "Did you cook it yourself?"
"No," he replied dryly. "I prefer my food edible."
She snorted, then took a bite. It was surprisingly good.
They ate mostly in silence, save for the occasional clink of utensils.
When they were done, Rayden leaned back and gestured toward the bedside drawer.
"Medicine?"
Anne nodded, retrieving it.
As she turned, Rayden's gaze fell to her back—the collar of her sweater had slipped, just enough to reveal the fading bruise still painted across her shoulder blade.
He frowned.
"Do you have the cream the doctor prescribed?"
Anne blinked. "Yeah. Why?"
He took it from her hands. "Sit. I'll help."
Anne's eyes widened. "I—uh—I can do it myself—"
"You can barely reach your back."
She hesitated… then turned around slowly.
The room went quiet.
Her breath caught when his fingers brushed against her skin, cool from the cream, but careful.
He didn't speak. Didn't make a sound.
But she could feel something shift in the air between them.
Something unspoken. Warm. Tangled.
When he was done, he closed the cap and placed the tube down.
Neither of them moved.
Then he spoke, voice lower than usual.
"You should rest."
Anne turned her head, but he was already walking toward the door.
She didn't stop him.
But her heart was beating louder than it had in days.