Chapter 33

Zoya's POV

I sped through the stark white halls of the hospital, my breath coming in quick, uneven bursts. Sebastian was beside me, his long strides struggling to keep up with my frantic pace.

"Zoya, slow down!" he called, his voice strained, but I barely heard him.

"She must be devastated," I muttered, the words tumbling out as I pushed myself to move faster, my chest tightening with every step.

When I finally spotted her, my heart clenched painfully. Oli was pacing outside the ICU, her movements restless and frantic. Her makeup was smeared, dark streaks lining her tear-streaked face, and her hair was hastily shoved into a messy bun. She looked broken—more fragile than I’d ever seen her.

"Oli," I called softly, my voice trembling as I ran toward her.

She froze mid-step, her head snapping up. For a moment, shock flickered in her wide, tear-filled eyes. But then her arms opened, and I didn’t hesitate. I threw myself into her embrace, wrapping her tightly in mine.

Her whole body trembled against me, the fragile weight of her shaking form grounding my own rising panic. She felt so frail, as if the world had already taken too much from her. I held her closer, afraid she might shatter if I let go.

"What happened?" I asked carefully, letting go of her but still gripping her forearms tightly, as though anchoring her to reality.

"We had an argument," she began, her voice shaky and strained. "He freaked out—started shouting, throwing things around—and before I knew it… he just collapsed." Her fingers shakily brushed a few strands of hair away from her tear-streaked face, the strands stuck to her skin like remnants of her pain.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. "What did the doctors say?" I asked softly after a brief, tense silence. Deep down, I already knew what this argument had been about—her and me. Guilt gnawed at the edges of my resolve, threatening to consume me.

"Something with his heart." Her voice cracked, and she let out a shaky exhale. "I literally broke his heart, Zoya," she choked out, a loud sob escaping her lips. The sound hit me like a blow to the chest, and my heart clenched painfully.

"Olivia, this is not your fault," Sebastian interjected firmly, his voice cutting through the thick air of anguish. "Yes, you developed feelings for Zoya, but you decided to step on your own heart—and hers—for him."

His words stung, sharp and unrelenting, piercing through my guilt-ridden haze. Even in this moment, with Elijah in a hospital bed, my love for her clouded my judgment. I hated myself for it.

"Shh," I hissed, cutting Sebastian off abruptly. My eyes darted around the bustling hallway. We were in a public space, and the news of Elijah’s condition had already spread. Paparazzi could be lurking nearby, waiting to pounce on any morsel of vulnerability.

"This is neither the place nor the time," I scolded Sebastian, guiding Olivia to a nearby chair as gently as I could.

"What are you doing here?" came a voice from behind me, sharp and unwelcome. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, and the irritation bubbling inside me only grew. Why was everyone so focused on anything but what truly mattered?

"Ava, don't start," Olivia snapped, her voice edged with exhaustion. Her sharp tone made Ava hesitate, her mouth closing as if she’d bitten back whatever she wanted to say.

But only for a moment.

"If Elijah knew she was here, it would make things worse," Ava muttered, her glare now fixed squarely on me.

"Elijah is in the ICU, and Zoya is here as a friend," Sebastian interjected, his voice firm and steady. "It’s normal for her to be here. If she weren’t, people would speculate even more. So why don’t you back off?" His words hung in the air, and I could feel the tension crackling between all of us like a live wire.

I glanced at Sebastian, then at Ava. Things were spiraling. Taking a deep breath, I gave Sebastian a pleading look. "Sebastian, why don’t you take Ava to the cafeteria? Get Olivia something to eat and drink. She needs it."

"I’m not going anywhere," Ava shot back, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Just go," I snapped, unable to contain my frustration any longer. My voice was sharp, cutting through the charged silence. "Don’t you see you’re making things worse for Oli?"

Ava’s gaze flicked to Olivia, who sat silently, her face a storm of suppressed emotion, her tears barely held back. Something in Ava’s posture shifted. Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away, not bothering to wait for Sebastian.

Sebastian hesitated, giving me a small nod before following her. The tension lingered, heavy and oppressive, but at least for now, it was quieter.

I sat beside Olivia, and as soon as I did, she leaned her head against my shoulder. I let her rest, my hand lightly brushing against hers, and we sat together in a quiet, comfortable silence that stretched for what felt like both seconds and hours.

"How did you know?" she finally asked, her voice soft but heavy with exhaustion.

"It's all over the news," I replied gently, my fingers brushing the back of her hand, which was now entwined with mine.

"Already?" she scoffed, anger flashing briefly through her voice.

"The ambulance showing up at your house… of course, word spread," I said, keeping my tone calm and soothing.

She sighed, her frustration melting into something deeper. "I didn’t think you would come," she admitted at last, her voice breaking slightly under the weight of her pain.

I turned to look at her, my grip on her hand tightening slightly, a silent promise. "No matter what happens between us, I would never ignore you in a situation like this," I said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

She exhaled a shaky breath, settling further against me, her weight pressing into my side. "You’re such a good person," she murmured, her words tinged with weariness and something else—perhaps gratitude, perhaps regret.

After a couple of minutes, I saw Ava and Sebastian returning. Sebastian carried a tray of food, his movements steady and deliberate, while Ava trailed beside him, her expression tight with frustration.

"Oli, your food is here," I murmured softly, patting her hand to get her attention.

"I’m not hungry," she mumbled against my neck, her voice barely audible. Her words stirred something fragile in me, but I noticed Ava rolling her eyes, clearly unimpressed.

"I know you’re not," I said gently, my tone firm but kind. "But you need to eat and drink if you want to stay strong for Elijah, okay?"

Ava’s glare burned into me, making the air feel heavier. Uneasy, I shifted back just a little, enough to create space. Olivia’s body tensed, and I could tell she hated that I pulled away.

Still, I reached for the tray Sebastian offered, using it as a distraction. My hands trembled slightly as I took it, but I forced a small smile, pretending everything was fine. For her.

She looked down at the tray I placed on her lap, forcing a smile before giving me a small nod. The gesture tugged at my heart. I wanted nothing more than to take the food and feed her myself, to give her the comfort and support she so clearly needed. But Ava’s presence loomed over me like a shadow, and I broke into a cold sweat under the weight of her sharp, accusing gaze.

“Can you just sit down?” Sebastian’s voice cut through the tension. “It’s not like Zoya’s going to poison her.”

“I didn’t say she would,” Ava snapped. “I’m worried about who might see them getting too... cozy.”

“We are not getting cozy,” I said, my patience finally fraying. “If anyone saw me comforting her, it wouldn’t seem odd—because that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m here as her friend. I have no intention of cozying up to her.” My voice trembled slightly, the pressure of the moment threatening to break me.

“No paparazzi are allowed here, so stop creating unnecessary stress,” Olivia murmured, her voice heavy with exhaustion. Even in her fragile state, it seemed she lacked the energy to argue with Ava further.

“So I’m the bad guy now,” Ava muttered under her breath, finally retreating to a seat far away from us—a stroke of luck I didn’t take for granted.

“Eat,” I said, turning back to Olivia, who was still staring blankly at the tray of food in front of her. She didn’t seem to have any intention of touching it.

“For my sake, can you please eat?” I pleaded softly.

Her head snapped up, and her eyes locked on mine.

She didn’t say anything at first, just studied me in silence. Then, slowly, her gaze dropped to my lips, and the intensity in her eyes made my breath catch.

“Anything for you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes stayed fixed on me, and for a moment, the world around us seemed to disappear.

She looked back to the tray and started taking small bites, until she pushed it to the side claiming she no longer had the appetite,  I wanted her to eat more but I had to settle for that.

We sat in silence after that. Olivia shifted in her seat a few times, and I could feel her hesitation—she wanted to lean back on my shoulder but never did. Instead, she slid down in her chair and closed her eyes.

An hour passed, maybe more, before we saw the doctor approaching. Ava immediately ran up to him, her voice tense as she asked if there was any news.

“He’s stable for now, but he’ll need to stay in the ICU for a couple of days. You should all go home—there won’t be any visitors allowed until tomorrow,” he said, directing his words to Ava.

Olivia shot up from her seat at his words and walked over to Ava, gently moving her aside.

“Can’t I stay with him?” she asked, her voice carrying a desperate edge.

The doctor shook his head, his expression firm, before turning and walking away.

“It’ll be okay,” Ava said, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around Olivia. “Come on, I’ll drive you home and stay with you.”

Olivia’s head snapped in my direction, her eyes searching mine for something—permission, comfort, or maybe even an escape. But I was already grabbing my bag.

“That’s a good idea,” I said, forcing a neutral tone. “You need the rest.” I agreed with Ava, even though it felt like betrayal. Avoiding conflict was easier than admitting how much I wanted to stay.

I won’t lie—every part of me wanted to be the one to take Olivia home, to be there for her when she needed someone most. But I knew staying wasn’t the answer. Not for her, and not for me. I’d only end up hurt all over again when this was over.

She looked at me then, her gaze almost pleading, as though silently begging me to ask her to come with me. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

“Sebastian, let’s go,” I said quietly, breaking the moment.

We walked away together, the silence between us feeling heavier than ever. I didn’t look back, no matter how much I wanted to. Because I knew—if I turned around, if I saw her one more time—I’d change my mind. And I couldn’t let that happen.