The sound of the jet's engines slowly faded as Rhys leaned back in his seat, his eyes closing for a moment as the turbulent thoughts in his mind swirled together like a storm. He had been away from Sicily for nearly a week, focusing on his company, but now, with the uncertainty in his heart about what had transpired with Mel and the distance growing between them, Rhys was ready to return. He couldn't shake the unease that had gripped him ever since Melanie had seemed so distant, her rare calls giving him just enough hints to realize something wasn't right.
As the private jet landed on the tarmac of the island, the scenery seemed almost foreign to Rhys. The familiar golden sun that typically bathed Sicily in warmth now felt colder, the rush of the ocean breeze carrying with it an unspoken tension.
He had barely gotten off the plane when he saw Melanie standing near the tarmac. Her figure was small, but her posture was tense, her arms crossed tightly in front of her as if shielding herself from an invisible force.
"Mel," Rhys called out, walking toward her. His tone was lighter than he felt, trying to mask the weight of the question that lingered at the back of his mind. "What's going on?"
Her eyes, usually bright and sharp, were clouded with fear. When she saw him approaching, she didn't meet his eyes right away. Instead, she focused on the ground, a slight tremor running through her body.
"Dana's in the hospital," she whispered, her voice barely audible, filled with a mix of sorrow and panic.
Rhys's stomach dropped. "What happened to her?"
"I… I don't know. I wasn't there," Melanie stammered, her face contorted in anguish. "She fell during the fire alarm. I don't know what's going on, but… I can't lose her, Rhys. I can't lose another friend like I lost Rachael."
Her words hit Rhys harder than he expected. The guilt and pain that had already simmered within him since Rachael's death intensified, and his chest tightened. He had never fully understood Melanie's grief over losing Rachael—he had always blamed himself, but hearing it like this… hearing how deeply Mel had been affected by the loss, it opened a door in his heart he hadn't realized was still locked.
"Mel," he said, his voice softer now, "nothing's going to happen to her. We'll make sure of it. Let's go to the hospital."
They rushed to the car, the ride feeling much too long for Rhys's liking. Each second that ticked by felt like an eternity. His mind raced, thoughts spiraling as he tried to make sense of the situation. Dana had always been a constant presence, someone who had quietly supported both him and Melanie. To imagine her lying unconscious in a hospital bed sent a pang of guilt through him. Had they all been so caught up in their own lives that they hadn't noticed when she needed them the most?
When they finally arrived at the hospital, the scene was far more intense than Rhys had anticipated. People were gathered in the waiting room, talking in hushed tones. And there, in the corner, Rhys saw Steven.
He froze. It was unexpected, to say the least. Steven was kneeling beside Dana's bed, his face a mixture of concentration and worry. His hand gently held hers, his thumb moving over her knuckles in an almost desperate rhythm. It wasn't the image Rhys had envisioned upon returning. The two men had always had a complicated relationship, and Rhys couldn't quite figure out what to make of the fact that Steven was acting like this now.
Steven's back was turned when Rhys entered the room. Rhys stood at the door for a moment, watching him, but Steven didn't seem to notice his presence. The sight of his best friend, the usually confident and slightly cocky businessman, looking so vulnerable as he stared down at Dana, softened something in Rhys.
It wasn't about proving a point anymore. It wasn't about getting back at Rhys. Steven wasn't even thinking about what he could win in this game anymore. No, this was different. This was raw, unfiltered worry. He was clearly shaken by Dana's condition, his entire demeanor speaking volumes of how deeply he cared for her.
Rhys's brow furrowed as he stepped into the room, his voice a little more forceful than he intended. "What the hell happened?"
Steven didn't even flinch at Rhys's tone. He simply turned his head slowly, meeting Rhys's gaze. For the first time, there was no cocky edge in Steven's eyes, no arrogance. There was just… exhaustion. Worry. And something Rhys couldn't quite put his finger on.
"She fell," Steven muttered, his voice low and strained. "She hit her head. She's been unconscious ever since." His fingers tightened around Dana's hand, but he didn't pull away.
Rhys opened his mouth to say something, but words failed him. His eyes flickered to Dana. There she was, lying motionless in the bed. Her normally vibrant features were pale and still. The once invincible Dana Edison, the girl who always seemed to have everything together, was now vulnerable and fragile.
For a moment, Rhys simply stood there, processing everything. He glanced back at Steven, who was still watching Dana, his jaw clenched, his knuckles white.
"Steven… I—" Rhys began, but his words trailed off. There was no need for an explanation. There was no need for a fight, no competition for who cared more. They both knew the truth now.
"I don't want to lose her, Rhys," Steven's voice cracked as he spoke, his gaze still locked on Dana. "I know I've been obsessed with Mel, but this… Dana's not just a part of the game. She's been the one who's always been there for me. I don't want to lose my best friend. My confidant. My timid girl."
The weight of Steven's words hit Rhys hard. In that moment, everything he had been clinging to—the rivalry, the competition, the need to prove himself—seemed so insignificant. He had always thought of Dana as just another part of the puzzle, someone who played a secondary role in this strange dance between him, Melanie, and Steven. But seeing Steven's raw honesty… Rhys couldn't help but realize that Dana was more than just an afterthought. She was, in fact, the anchor holding everything together.
Rhys stepped closer, his voice softer now, as he placed a hand on Steven's shoulder. "We're in this together. We'll figure this out. But… you're not alone in this. Neither of you."
Steven didn't say anything in response. He simply nodded, the tears in his eyes betraying the strength he had always tried to keep hidden.