"Miss Elena!" they gasped in unison, scrambling to adjust their clothes and smooth their disheveled appearances.
Elena stood awkwardly, unsure of how to react. Her presence had clearly embarrassed them, but she had no intention of making things worse. Without saying a word, she turned back toward the counter, grabbed her jug of water, and quickly exited the kitchen.
As she climbed the stairs back to her room, she let out a quiet breath, hoping to erase the unexpected sight from her mind. But just as she reached the hallway, a faint sound stopped her in her tracks.
Someone was sobbing.
Elena stilled, straining to hear more. The soft, muffled sounds grew clearer with each second. Her heart tightened. Someone was crying.
She took a few hesitant steps forward, following the sound. Her feet slowed as she came to a stop—right in front of Ford's door.
Her breath caught. Ford? Was he crying?
For a moment, she debated whether to check on him. Her fingers twitched by her side, tempted to knock, but she hesitated. Would he want her to see him like this? Would he get offended?
After a brief internal struggle, Elena decided against it. It's probably nothing, she told herself, shaking her head. Ignoring the unsettling feeling in her chest, she turned and hurried back to her room.
Once inside, she placed the jug carefully on the table, her thoughts still consumed by Ford. Her brows furrowed in concern. Was he having a nightmare?
She had no answers—only questions.
Minutes passed, but the uncertainty gnawed at her. The more she tried to ignore it, the stronger the urge became.
Finally, unable to fight her curiosity any longer, she acted on impulse. Without a second thought, she turned around, opened her door as quietly as possible, and stepped back into the hallway.
Moving toward Ford's room, she took deep, steadying breaths. Once she reached his door, she hesitated for a moment before gently raising her hand.
She knocked then waited, listening intently for any response.
Silence.
She knocked again, this time a little firmer. Still, there was no reply.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
Knocking a second time, this time a little harder, she waited—but still, there was no reply.
Frowning, she leaned closer, pressing her ear against the door, straining to listen. The soft, muffled sobs were still there, barely audible but unmistakable.
Her heart clenched.
Hesitating only for a moment, she slowly reached for the door handle. Gently, she twisted it and pushed the door open, the dim light from the hallway spilling into the darkened room.
Her breath hitched at the sight before her.
Ford lay motionless on the bed, his face turned upward, his expression blank. The bedsheets covered half of his body, but even in the darkness, she could see the sheen of sweat glistening on his skin.
Elena stepped inside cautiously, her gaze locked on him. The closer she moved, the clearer he became—his tensed jaw, the damp strands of hair sticking to his forehead, the way his chest rose and fell unsteadily.
Then, she saw it.
Tears.
He was crying.
A lump formed in her throat. Oh my… he's crying. What do I do? she murmured under her breath, unsure of how to proceed.
She had always seen Ford as composed, strong—almost untouchable. Yet, here he was, lying before her, utterly vulnerable. The realization made her chest tighten. All this time, he put on a tough exterior, but inside, he's suffering.
Swallowing, Elena glanced around the room, searching for something to help. Spotting a small towel on the nearby table, she quietly picked it up. Her fingers gripped the soft fabric as she turned back toward him.
Bending down, she hesitated for a moment, staring at his face.
Even in his distressed state, she couldn't ignore how undeniably handsome he looked. His sharp features, the gentle curve of his lips, the way his long lashes rested against his damp skin—he was breathtaking.
She exhaled shakily, momentarily lost in his face.
Her gaze drifted lower, landing on his slightly flared nostrils. His nose is perfectly sculpted, she thought absentmindedly.
Elena felt a strong urge to touch his nostrils, to brush away the strands of hair that clung to his forehead.
Her fingers twitched.
The moment stretched, heavy and silent, as she battled with herself.
Taking the towel, Elena quietly entered the bathroom, soaking it in cold water. She wrung out the excess, her fingers trembling slightly. I hope he doesn't wake up… I hope he'll be alright.
The thought of Ford opening his eyes and finding her here made her stomach twist. The embarrassment she would feel if he caught her tending to him was almost unbearable. Yet, despite that fear, she couldn't ignore the urge to help.
Steeling herself, she moved back toward the bed. Her steps were slow and cautious as she approached him.
With delicate fingers, she reached out and gently brushed aside the strands of damp hair clinging to his forehead. His hair was soft, slightly oily from sweat, yet well-groomed. She couldn't help but smile at the realization—he clearly put effort into maintaining it.
Taking the cool towel, she dabbed it against his forehead, the chilled fabric meeting his overheated skin. Almost instantly, she felt his body relax under her touch. His breathing steadied, and the quiet sobs that had filled the room moments ago ceased.
Her heart swelled with relief. I'm helping… it's working.
With gentle care, she wiped away the lingering tears on his cheeks, her movements slow and precise.
Curious, she placed the back of her hand against his forehead. A sharp frown formed on her face. He's burning up.
"He's running a temperature," she whispered, worry creeping into her voice.
Glancing around, she spotted the air conditioner remote on the nightstand. Quickly, she reached for it and adjusted the temperature, lowering it slightly to cool the room.
Satisfied with her efforts, she let out a small breath. "Mr. Ford, you'll be fine," she whispered softly, her fingers gently patting his hand in reassurance.
She remained by his bedside, watching over him in silence. As time passed, her own exhaustion began to settle in. Her eyelids grew heavy, and a quiet yawn escaped her lips.
Shaking off the drowsiness, she stood and walked back to the bathroom, soaking the towel once more before carefully placing it back on his forehead.
Stretching her arms above her head, she knew it was time to leave.
But just as she turned to go, she felt something—a sudden tug on her dress.
Her eyes widened in shock.
Slowly, she turned back toward the bed, her pulse quickening.
Elena couldn't help but wonder what had happened to his mother that would cause him to have such distressing nightmares. It dawned on her that he had never spoken about his mother, not even in passing. The realization made her heart ache for him.
Bending low, she gently used the back of her hand to wipe away the tears that had slipped down his face. For a brief moment, she considered waking him up but decided against it. Instead, she leaned in closer and whispered softly into his ear, "Your mom would be proud to have a son like you."
A tender smile graced her lips as she carefully pried his fingers away from the fabric of her clothes, which he had been gripping tightly in his sleep. Once his hand was free, she gently placed it back on the bed, ensuring he was comfortable. With quiet precision, she pulled the bedsheet up, tucking it around him to keep him warm before finally stepping away.
As she made her way to her own room, exhaustion settled over her. She hurriedly lay down on her bed, sinking into the soft mattress. It didn't take long before sleep claimed her completely.
Morning arrived with a golden glow filtering through the windows, casting a warm hue across the room. Ford stirred awake, greeted by the sight of a beautiful new day. A genuine smile stretched across his face as he inhaled deeply, feeling refreshed.
However, a sudden sneeze interrupted. He sniffled, suspecting he might have caught a cold, but he brushed the thought aside. For him it didn't matter.
Humming his favorite tune under his breath, he stood before the standing mirror, meticulously adjusting his tie. His movements were precise, almost ritualistic, as he ensured every fold and knot sat perfectly in place. Satisfied, he reached for his hairbrush, running it through his dark strands, allowing them to fall effortlessly to one side of his face.
As he examined his reflection, a wave of excitement bubbled within him. Today was his mother's birthday. The thought alone filled him with joy, a warmth spreading through his chest.
Casting one final glance at himself in the mirror, he straightened his posture, grabbed his briefcase, and prepared to leave. Just as he reached for the door handle, his phone buzzed loudly, the screen illuminating with an incoming call. He glanced at the caller ID, immediately recognizing the name flashing across the screen. Letting out a deep sigh, he hesitated before ultimately choosing to let it ring unanswered.
Standing in front of Elena's door, Ford hesitated, debating whether to wake her and let her know he was leaving. His hand hovered near the doorframe, but after a moment of consideration, he decided against it. He didn't want to disturb her rest, especially after the long night she had.
Just as he turned away, his phone began ringing for the second time that morning. His jaw tightened in irritation. Not wanting the sound to wake Elena, he quickly walked away from her door, his footsteps light but purposeful.
Frowning, he glanced down at his phone, the screen glowing with the same persistent caller. His mood soured instantly. Before he could react, Morgan approached him with a polite nod.
"Good morning, sir. What would you like for breakfast?" Morgan inquired, his voice steady.
Ford barely lifted his gaze from his phone as he responded. "I'm fine, Morgan. Not hungry for now."
With that, he resumed walking, slipping his phone back into his pocket, uninterested in whatever urgency the caller seemed to have.
Once inside the car, he settled into the leather seat, exhaling as he tried to focus on the day ahead. But within minutes, another sneeze escaped him, followed by another.
"Sir, it looks like you've caught a cold," the driver observed through the rearview mirror, concern evident in his tone. "Would you like me to stop at a pharmacy?"
Ford sniffled but quickly dismissed the suggestion. "No, I'm fine," he replied, waving off the concern as he leaned his head against the seat.
Just then, a notification popped up on his phone. With a sigh, he unlocked the screen and opened the message.
"My baby, seems you're busy with work. You haven't been picking my calls. Well, I just landed in the States. I'm coming for you.
Your love, Sia."
Ford read the message aloud, his expression darkening with every word. His grip tightened around the phone as he muttered under his breath, "Not again."