Jessica felt rejuvenated. With Davis’s unsolicited help, she had been able to push through the whirlwind of emotions, regaining the composure she had always been known for.
Even so, her decision hadn’t changed—she would talk to him, openly, when she returned. That was the least he deserved. The more she thought about it, the more she understood why she hadn’t rejected his request to explain the tears—because deep down, she wanted to share it with him.
Sliding into her car, she retrieved the few essentials she had abandoned when Davis arrived earlier. Her ID card, stethoscope, a file she had received from Richard and the small box bearing her evidence for the fact she wants to travel—all were placed neatly in her backpack.
She took a moment to breathe in deeply, then stepped out once more, her posture regal and controlled, her head held high. Gone were the traces of vulnerability that had overwhelmed her in the earlier moments. Now, she stood tall, elegant, and composed—like a steadfast wall shielding others from the storm.
Davis watched her silently, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. The shift in her demeanor didn’t go unnoticed. She no longer appeared like the fragile woman whose tears had pierced through his chest like a blade.
No, this woman was the Jessica he knew—the one who had bore the light that illuminated his darkest world, the one who had protected and shielded him against the tidal waves.
She walked up to him and gave a confident nod. "I’m all set," she said, slinging the backpack over one shoulder. Her voice was calm and steady, layered with quiet strength.
Davis’s lips curved into a soft smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. "Wishing you success," he said, his tone gentle, warm, and filled with pride—like a spring breeze brushing against the heart.
Jessica paused, momentarily taken aback by how much that one sentence meant to her. It wasn’t just the words. It was the way he said it, the unspoken trust and faith behind it.
She bent slightly, resting her forehead against his. "Thank you," she whispered. "For this morning... for everything."
He didn’t respond with words. His hand simply reached up to cup the side of her face, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek, and she understood—it was enough.
Straightening herself, she turned toward the hospital entrance. Her steps soft against the concrete, stating her confidence an determination. She didn’t look back, but she could feel his gaze on her like a silent promise of support.
From his position, Davis watched until the automatic doors of the hospital elevator slid shut behind her. He leaned back into the seat, fingers tapping rhythmically against his thigh.
For a man who had once been shielded from the world, letting her go alone should’ve stirred panic in him. But now, it didn’t. Instead, it brought a strange kind of comfort.
She was his wife. She was strong. And despite everything, she came back to him—always.
Brian approached from the side, having maintained a respectful distance all the while. "Sir, the guards are back in position. Shall we head back to the estate?"
Davis shook his head. "No. Let’s wait. I’ll stay here until she’s done." Brian was surprised at his words and then he -|hesitated. "Sir, that could take hours."
"I know," Davis said simply, eyes still trained on the hospital entrance. "But this time, she walked through that door stronger than ever. The least I can do is wait for her return." He murmured both to himself and him. Brian gave a respectful nod and stepped away.
Jessica strolled into the elevator, her footsteps light and confident, lips curled into a content smile. As the doors slid shut, sealing her in, she gazed at her reflection in the polished metal wall. Was she really the same woman who had been crying just moments ago? It felt surreal how relieved she felt.
"Maybe," she mused inwardly, "having someone to lean on isn’t such a bad idea after all."
A soft ding interrupted her thoughts. The elevator came to a halt. Coincidentally, the elevator next to hers opened at the same moment.
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