"Dave Raven?" Julian called tentatively, his voice both probing and doubtful. For some reason, there shouldn’t be any connection between Dave Raven and Davis Allen.
Davis nodded lightly, his hand still stretched forward. He was certain he wasn’t being rude nor trying to ignore him, but the shock had been far heavier than expected.
Julian stepped forward, accepting the handshake. "Are you really Dave Raven?" he asked again, needing to clear his doubt.
"Julian, you don’t have to look so shocked. It’s nothing but a mere name," Davis tried to pacify.
At that moment, he had no luxury of arguing about names or their origin, nor was he ready to explain the reason behind his dual identity.
Julian took a deep breath. "It’s nice meeting you. My father must be really happy to see we finally met."
"I met him a few days ago," Davis answered, his gaze darting toward the closed yet transparent door. "Let me see her."
Julian gave a slight nod and stepped back.
Davis stepped closer to the glass door, his warm and gentle gaze fell on the lady on the bed. "Where is the doctor?" He asked no one in particular.
"I will call him over," the guard said as he left and headed towards the Dean’s office.
Julian lingered behind Davis. He wanted to see Jessica first; he had only gone to the Dean’s office to ask about her condition and get a clear report of her situation.
More than that, he had hoped to fly her back to Country Z both for personal and medical reasons.
But with Davis suddenly in the picture, that possibility had crumbled unless later diagnosis proved otherwise.
"Sir, the Dean is here." The guard’s voice cut through the silence and tension that was tightening around Davis.
"Can I go in?" Davis asked, not once retracting his gaze from the frail woman on the bed.
It was as though everyone present was just a backdrop to the moment. His fist clenched briefly. It was clear he was fighting to hold himself together.
"You can go in," the Dean answered, pushing open the door. "But only two family members at a time."
Davis stepped into the ICU in long strides. The sterile fragrance of antiseptic, the warm and piercing white light of the ICU was not even noticed by him as he entered. Julian walked in behind him.
With the lady on the bed now in clear view, Davis found himself rooted at a spot, his feet refusing to move forward.
Both men’s hearts thumped hard and painfully, their throats tightening around unspoken words.
Julian’s fists clenched at his side as he took in her familiar features, he had sketched by himself and had come to memorize over the years, now pale, weakened, almost unrecognizable and most of all... lying motionless.
Davis forced himself forward, dragging his feet to her bedside. Each step tightened his chest until he thought it might split open.
As he took in the sight before him, he found himself losing his breath.
Her head was bound in bandages, an oxygen mask strapped over her nose. Machines beeped rhythmically, tubes and wires connecting her frail body to life.
Her frame frail and weak under the bed cover, her skin ghostly pale due to blood loss was in stark contrast to the vibrant, full, and breathtaking beautiful woman he left behind.
He tried to speak, but his lips quivered, unable to form any word as they dissolved in the swell of emotion. His reddened eyes stung as tears blurred his vision threatening to fall.
Finally, he sank to his knees beside her, his trembling hands lifting her limp palm as if it were made of porcelain. Her skin was warm, but weaker than he remembered. It was so unlike her usual touch.
His tears fell freely.
Jessica’s body temperature had always been peculiar, warmer than most. It had taken him years to get used to it. But never...never had it felt this faint.
And even in their worst moments of life and death, she had not felt this level of warmness.
"Ba...be... Wi..fe," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Can you open your eyes? I’m back from the summit.
Didn’t you promise to wait for me? Didn’t you promise you’d be safe?" His voice cracked at every word.
His hand trembled as he brushed the bandage on her head gently and softly as if handling an expensive porcelain doll that breaks at the slightest.
"Doctor, did she hit her head?" he asked hoarsely, though his gaze never left her.
Inwardly, he cursed himself silently blaming himself for the mishap.
Maybe he shouldn’t have left. Maybe he shouldn’t have trusted fate.
"Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to the summit." He muttered "Maybe I shouldn’t have tried so hard to understand your point of view. But then... wouldn’t that mean I was selfish? And isn’t that the opposite of understanding?"
The doctor sighed, pulling him from his spiral. "It was a gash, something pierced her forehead and it was a bit deep, but thank God no object was logged inside." the doctor answered.
"Babe...It must have hurt a lot."



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