Ford paced anxiously around the room as the doctor carefully attended to the unconscious Elena, who lay on his bed. "Sir Ford, I can't concentrate with you pacing up and down," the doctor complained, his voice tinged with irritation.
Reluctantly, Ford took a seat nearby, his nerves still on edge. He tried to calm himself, inhaling and exhaling deeply, but his eyes remained fixed on the doctor, scrutinizing every movement he made.
After what felt like an eternity, the doctor began packing up his medical supplies. Ford instantly sprang to his feet, his urgency palpable. "Doctor, is she alright?" he asked without hesitation, his words coming out in a rush.
"Yes, she's stable," the doctor replied reassuringly. "But she's under a lot of stress. I've put her on a drip to help with her dehydration and malnourishment. She needs plenty of rest. I don't know what's going on with her, but you need to monitor her closely and ensure she gets proper care."
Pausing for a moment, the doctor glanced at Ford with a serious expression. "Her body has already endured significant stress in the past, so it's crucial to avoid putting her through any more strain. Just make sure she stays on strict bed rest," he concluded firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Rushing to her side, Ford exclaimed, "Well done, doctor. What do you mean by—" His sentence was abruptly cut short when the doctor handed him a list of medications prescribed for Elena.
"Make sure she takes these drugs. Let her rest, and she'll wake up on her own. It's just stress," the doctor explained calmly, handing over the list.
"Should I leave a nurse here to monitor her overnight and remove the drip in case it finishes?" the doctor asked, glancing at Ford, whose eyes were fixed intently on Elena's pale form.
"No, don't worry, doctor. I'll take care of her myself. I can handle it," Ford replied with quiet determination, barely shifting his gaze from Elena.
The doctor didn't press the matter further. With a slight nod, he left the room, taking with him the nurse who had accompanied him.
Ford's attention briefly wavered from the list of questions lingering in his mind about Elena's recurring physical stress to the piece of paper containing her prescribed medications. He examined it.
After a long moment of silently staring at Elena's pale, fragile face, Ford sighed heavily and stretched his arms to relieve the tension in his shoulders. Rising from his seat, he walked out to the dimly lit corridor. "Morgan!" he called out, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.
"Yes, sir," the butler responded promptly, hurrying up the stairs to attend to his boss without delay. Once he reached Ford, the latter handed him the paper containing the list of medications.
"Get the drugs written down here," Ford commanded, his tone firm and resolute. "Make sure I have them as early as possible tomorrow morning."
"Yes, sir," the butler affirmed with a slight bow before taking the list and leaving to carry out the instructions.
Ford returned to the room, moving quietly to avoid disturbing Elena. He approached her with careful, measured steps and gently sat down beside her on the bed. Reaching out, he tenderly rubbed her chin with the back of his palm, his touch as soft as a whisper.
As he withdrew his hand, Ford paused and stared at it, as though the sensation of touching her lingered there. He couldn't believe what he was doing. It had been years since he had touched a woman in such a gentle, caring way—or even cared for one. Women were always the ones pursuing him, not the other way around.
"What am I doing?" Ford muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His eyes returned to Elena, her face pale yet peaceful in her sleep. A whirlwind of thoughts swirled in his mind. How had this happened? When did he start developing a soft spot for her?
Ford was a man who wouldn't dare bring a stranger into his home under normal circumstances. But with Elena, everything was different. She made him worry in ways he hadn't before. Her confidence, her zeal—it all intrigued him, drawing him closer to her in a way he couldn't fully explain.
Pulling out his phone, he checked the time. It was already past eleven at night. A sudden realization struck him, making him frown. Her family hadn't called him—not once. Nor had Elena's phone rung since they had arrived. The silence was unsettling, and it only added to the growing weight of his concern for her.
Shaking his head in disappointment, Ford realized there was more to Elena's situation than met the eye. He briefly considered calling his father to get Elena's dad's number but quickly dismissed the idea. His father would undoubtedly start asking questions, and Ford wasn't sure how Elena would react if she found out he had involved his family.
Stretching his arms, he sighed deeply. He was physically and mentally drained and desperately needed a shower. As he began removing his blazer, the sight of Elena sleeping quietly on his bed gave him pause. For a moment, he stood still, his eyes lingering on her fragile form, before continuing to undress.
Opening the door to his walk-in closet, Ford stepped inside and headed straight to the section where his nightwear was neatly arranged. After selecting what he needed, he exited the closet and made his way to the bathroom.
When he emerged from the bathroom, wearing only his nightwear trousers, his heart skipped a beat as he noticed Elena's drowsy eyes staring back at him. The unexpected sight of her awake momentarily startled him, and he instinctively flinched before quickly calming himself.
"Elena, are you alright? How are you feeling now?" he asked gently, his voice laced with concern as he approached her cautiously, careful not to disturb the IV drip attached to her arm.
But before she could respond, her heavy eyelids began to flutter shut. Slowly, she drifted back to sleep. "Elena," Ford called softly, but she didn't stir. She was already deep in slumber once more.
Letting out a soft sigh, Ford leaned closer, tenderly brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face before rubbing her head gently. "Rest well," he murmured, his tone barely audible.
Glancing down, he noticed his shirt lying on the floor. He picked it up, slipping it on before heading to the cushioned chair in the room. Ford tried to make himself comfortable, shifting his weight and adjusting his position several times, but the chair wasn't built for sleeping. Eventually, with no other option, he curled himself up as best he could.
Before closing his eyes, he turned his head to look at Elena one last time, ensuring she was still resting peacefully. Only then did he allow himself to shut his eyes, gradually succumbing to the pull of exhaustion and drifting off to sleep.
The rays of the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room and making it difficult for Ford to stay asleep. Suddenly, a loud, sharp cracking sound jolted him awake, pulling him from the remnants of his slumber almost instantly.
His eyes snapped open, his senses now fully alert. Turning toward the source of the noise, he saw Elena bent over, trying to pick up the electric lantern that had fallen to the floor.
"Elena? You're awake?" Ford called out as he hurried to her side, his voice laced with both relief and concern.
Startled, Elena stood upright, her head bowed in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry about the broken lantern," she murmured, her voice trembling. "I was trying my best not to wake you." Her hands nervously clutched at the fabric of her dress, revealing her unease.
"It's alright," Ford reassured her, his tone soft yet firm. His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her. "But why were you trying to leave without telling me?" he asked, his worry evident.
Before she could answer, Ford's gaze fell on her hands, and his heart sank. "You're bleeding!" he exclaimed, his voice rising with concern. "Why didn't you call me to help you? And why on earth would you remove the IV yourself?"
Ignoring her protests, Ford quickly began searching the cupboard for a first-aid kit. Finding one, he grabbed the cotton wool and antiseptic. With hurried yet careful movements, he gently cleaned the blood from her hands, his worry etched into every line of his face.
"I need to leave immediately. My family must be looking for me," Elena said, pulling her hands away from his. Her tone was firm, but there was a flicker of unease in her eyes.
Ford paused for a moment, his hands hovering midair as he watched her. His expression softened, but his worry didn't wane. "Elena, you're not in any condition to leave. You need to rest," he said gently, trying to mask his frustration with her stubbornness.
"Why are you in such a hurry? Just wait a little longer," Ford said, his tone both concerned and pleading. He paused for a moment, running a hand through his hair before adding, "Okay, you know what? Just let me put on some clothes, and we'll talk."
"No, no," Elena interrupted, shaking her head firmly. "I can't wait any longer. I really need to leave. Even though I can't fully remember how I got here, thanks for everything, but I need to go now." Her voice carried a sense of urgency as she moved away from him, avoiding his gaze.
Ford quickly reached out and gently grabbed her arm to stop her. "Okay, fine. But at least wait for your medications," he urged, trying to reason with her.
But as he studied her face, it became painfully clear that she wasn't convinced. Her expression was firm, and her determination to leave was unmistakable.
Growing frustrated, Ford sighed heavily. "Why are you in such a rush to go back to a family that hasn't even cared to call or check on you the entire time you've been here?" he asked, his voice tinged with irritation and a hint of sadness.
Elena stopped and turned to face him, her expression softening, but her resolve unwavering. "I know that very well," she replied quietly, her voice calm but filled with an underlying sadness. "And that's exactly why I need to go back."
Without waiting for a response, she turned and began walking toward the door, leaving Ford standing there, his frustration mounting.
He watched her go, torn between his instincts to protect her and his growing irritation at her stubbornness. Should he follow her and insist on helping, or should he just let her leave on her own? The internal debate consumed him until her voice broke his train of thought.
"Can you drive me home?" Elena asked softly, her beautiful, low voice filled with both vulnerability and resolve.