Noah's playful smile faltered as he studied her face. The sincerity in her words, the worry etched into her features, stirred something in him. He reached out, gently placing a hand over hers. "You don't get it, do you?" he said, his tone softening. "I don't care about my reputation, Anabella. I care about you."
Anabella's breath caught, and she quickly averted her gaze, not sure how to respond to the raw honesty in his words. She wanted to believe him, but her own doubts and insecurities held her back.
Meanwhile, outside the hospital room, Daniel was standing in the corridor, rubbing the sore spot on his shoulder from where Noah had shoved him. His face was a mix of anger and humiliation, but beneath it, something else began to take root—recognition.
