Dako Levi stood quietly beside the hospital bed, as he rested sideways on the wall, his fingers loosely intertwined as he rested his chin on them. His gaze remained fixed on the sleeping figure before him—Sycamore, a woman with a peculiar name, an enigma who had somehow messed the structured and single patterned life in just a matter of hours.
He was still in a daze, unable to shake the vivid image of her when they first crossed paths. She had looked so stressed, her entire being radiating an aura of exhaustion and guarded anticipation. Her expression was one of someone braced for the worst. He couldn't help but wonder what thoughts had raced through her mind when he'd pulled over to ask for directions.
And then, when she had swayed and nearly collapsed, he'd acted on pure instinct. Taking her hand to steady her wasn't something he did often—scratch that, it wasn't something he ever did. Levi wasn't the type to touch strangers, let alone strangers who looked at him with irritation buried under layers of fatigue and resignation. But there had been something about her that compelled him to act.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. The memory of her reaction to his touch was still fresh in his mind. Her feistiness had been evident even in her weakened state, though she seemed to have subdued it—like someone who had grown tired of fighting battles no one else could see. Instead, her natural fiery instincts had been replaced with irritation, though even that she'd kept under wraps.
She had looked sick—terribly so—and not taken care of. That part bothered him. Levi had seen enough in life to recognize when someone had been neglecting themselves. He wondered if it was intentional. Was she one of those people who made themselves sick, whether out of desperation or hopelessness? He hoped not.
But it was the scars on her wrist that truly haunted him. When her sleeve had shifted as he helped her into the car, he'd caught a glimpse of them—thin, deliberate marks that spoke volumes. They weren't accidental. Some looked older, while others were more recent, and he could have sworn he'd spotted faint burn marks too. He hadn't meant to stare, but now the image was seared into his memory.
Levi shook his head, trying to banish the thoughts. Whatever had caused those scars, it wasn't his place to pry—at least not yet. Still, the sight of them lingered, filling him with a mix of sorrow and an unfamiliar protectiveness.
His eyes shifted back to Sycamore, who was still asleep. He found himself studying her features again, as he'd done countless times since bringing her here. Her full lips, dark eyelids, and the slight gray tint around the edges of her brown eyes when they were open. He noticed her small ears and the way her skin glowed faintly, even in her pale state. She wasn't fair-skinned like many women he'd met, and her natural tone added to her charm.
And then there was her body. Levi felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck as he thought about it. Sycamore was plus-sized, and every curve seemed perfectly sculpted to fit her. She had hip dips, love handles, and a softness that made her seem almost ethereal to him. He had accidentally caught a glimpse when the caregiver helped her change, and though he hadn't meant to look, the image was now burned into his mind.
"No, no, no," Levi muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "This isn't me. What am I doing?"
He tried to rationalize his thoughts. Was it because he had suppressed romantic feelings for so long? He had focused all his energy on building his company, climbing to the top, and becoming the largest AI development firm in the country. Romantic distractions had been a luxury he couldn't afford. But now, with Sycamore lying here, every suppressed feeling seemed to come rushing back, threatening to overwhelm him.
Levi let out a dry laugh as he remembered her earlier suspicion. She thought he might be an organ harvester. The way her face had scrunched up as she sized him up, clearly calculating her odds of survival, had been oddly adorable. Even in her frailty, she had managed to amuse him.
He looked at her hands, resting limply on the bed. They were delicate, soft-looking, yet he could tell they weren't unworked hands. Despite their appearance, he suspected they had borne the weight of struggles she didn't speak of. Her faded nail polish caught his eye, and he chuckled to himself. Even in the little details, Sycamore was fascinating.
Levi shifted in his seat, feeling restless. He should leave. He had no real responsibility toward her, no reason to stay. Yet here he was, having canceled the rest of his meetings for the day, his good friend Kale had been so shocked when he had canceled his meetings and he couldn't blame the guy, it was odd and bothersome, checking on her after darting in and out of a Zoom call earlier.
"Why are you still here, Levi?" he muttered to himself. "You don't even know her."
But he couldn't bring himself to leave. There was something about Sycamore that anchored him to the spot. Maybe it was her strength buried beneath layers of weariness, or the way she made him laugh despite her situation. Maybe it was the mystery of her, the scars that hinted at untold stories, or the way her eyes had studied him as though trying to solve a puzzle.
Whatever it was, he knew one thing: he didn't want to walk away.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched her sleep. "Beautiful Sycamore," he murmured under his breath, "please get better soon. For yourself... and for this man right here."
He let out a soft sigh, shaking his head at himself. He wasn't used to being this sentimental, but Sycamore had a way of breaking down the walls he'd spent years building.
When she woke up, he'd let her ask all the questions she wanted. He'd endure her suspicious glares and answer her accusations of being an organ harvester. He'd even tell her about his company if she insisted.
But for now, he would sit here, quietly pondering the whirlwind of emotions she had awakened in him. Levi had spent years building a life of logic and order, but it seemed that Sycamore, with her jagged scars and faded nail polish, was about to disrupt it all.
And strangely enough, he didn't mind it.