The automatic doors of the hospital burst open with a sharp hiss.
A man in a white shirt, his sleeves soaked and half-stained in blood, stormed inside. His mask hid most of his face, but the panic in his eyes was unmistakable. In his arms, he carried a woman—Selene, whose head rested limply against his chest."Doctor! Doctor, I need a doctor!" The man's voice was raw, cracking as he clutched the limp girl in his arms. Within seconds, a team of doctors and nurses appeared with a stretcher. They carefully laid Selene down, the pale light reflecting off her rain-drenched hair. The man stepped back, trembling, his hands still hovering near her as if afraid to let go.
"Name of the patient?" a nurse asked, but he just stood there, frozen.
"She—she was on the road," he stammered. "I—I don't know…"
The team rushed her into the emergency room. The doors slammed shut, leaving him staring at the red "Emergency Room" sign blinking above. His breath hitched as he crouched against the wall, fingers clutching at his hair, his knuckles white.
That's when a pair of shoes stopped beside him.
"What did you do?"
The voice was low but edged with disbelief. He looked up slowly. It was Easton's manager, John. That's when the man lifted his head; it was Easton. His eyes, usually sharp and magnetic, were wide and filled with panic and fresh tears.
Easton's lips trembled beneath the mask. His voice barely came out. "I didn't mean to. I was driving, and she—she just appeared out of nowhere…"
The scene flashes back.
Rain pelts against the windscreen. The wipers can't keep up. His hands tighten on the steering wheel; Easton was driving too fast. His vision was blurring, not just from the tears streaming down his face, but from the sheer velocity of his self-destruction. He didn't know where he was going; he just needed out.
Suddenly, the world ahead became a sheet of rain. Then — a figure dashes into the road. Easton slammed on the brakes with brutal force. The sickening screech of tyres was followed by a jarring, metallic thud. The recoil threw him forward, his head cracking against the steering wheel. He didn't feel the pain.
For a moment, there's silence. Then, the dull thud of rain again. Easton's breath comes in ragged gasps as he stumbles out of the car, slipping on the wet road. His eyes widen — a woman lies motionless on the ground, her hair mixing with the rainwater.
"No, no, no…" He falls to his knees. "Did I kill someone?" The thought terrified him, turning his legs to water. He didn't know what to do.
He lifted trembling fingers, placing them beneath her nose. She was still breathing.
A huge sigh escaped him, a shuddering wave of relief. Without waiting another second, he lifted her, put her in the passenger seat, and drove toward the nearest hospital. His phone kept screaming at him. Calls from his mother, a few from his father, and endless buzzing from John. He kept declining them, focusing only on the road. But then, by mistake, he answered.
"Where are you?" John yells."I—I hit someone.""What?""I said I hit someone! She's bleeding a lot; I'm taking her to the hospital!""Oh my god, are you serious? You—Easton, listen to me, do NOT make this worse. Cover your face, I'm coming—""I don't have time!" Easton snaps. "If I wait, she might die!"
The line cuts. The only sound left is the heavy rain and his pounding heart.
"She's in there," Easton choked out, gesturing toward the doors. "She was bleeding so much. What if—"
"Stop it," John hissed, pulling Easton up by the elbow. "You need to pull yourself together. Right now. You are Easton Bright. If this gets out, it will be the biggest scandal of the year." He checked Easton's shirt, grimacing at the bloodstain. "Stay hidden. Do not speak to anyone. I will handle the hospital and the police."
Back in the hospital, the night drags on. Easton sits outside the emergency ward, hands still shaking. John paces back and forth, whispering into his phone.
After what feels like forever, a doctor walks out.
"She's out of immediate danger," he says. "We've controlled the bleeding, but she needs rest and observation. She was lucky."
Easton exhales, shoulders slumping. John mutters a quiet, "Thank god," before turning to Easton.
"Stay here. I'll handle the formalities—you've done enough."
Easton nods silently.
Inside the room, Selene slowly opens her eyes. The white ceiling, the steady beep of machines, the faint smell of antiseptic — everything feels unreal. A nurse adjusts her IV and smiles. "You're safe now."
Moments later, a man enters.
A man she didn't recognise, calm and composed.
"You're awake," he said softly, placing a fruit basket on the table. "How are you feeling?"
Selene blinked, still a bit dazed. "I—I don't remember much…"
"That's alright," he smiled, reassuringly. "You had an accident last night. I'm really sorry about it, but you're safe now. The doctors said you'll recover soon."
Her eyes widened a little. "You mean… you were the one who…?"
"Yes." He hesitated for a second, then added, "But the important thing is that you're okay now."
A small smile tugged at her lips. "Thank you… "
John interrupted, "It was a terrible mistake. I was driving. I take full responsibility. I want to compensate you fully. For your recovery, for lost time at work, everything."
"I... I don't need anything more," Selene insisted, trying to lift her hand weakly. "It was an accident."
As she spoke, a faint sound played from her phone beside the bed — a familiar melody, a song that filled the room with warmth. John paused for a second, recognising it instantly — one of Easton's latest hits.
John's smile widened instantly. "You're a fan?"
Selene's eyes widened slightly. "Yes," she whispered.
"Perfect," John murmured. He pulled out a sleek, embossed card case. "Look, I'll cover all your medical expenses, plus a substantial monetary compensation. But how about this? A set of VIP tickets to Easton's upcoming comeback concert, front-row seats, plus a backstage pass."
Selene almost choked on the water she was trying to sip. Her eyes were suddenly huge. "You... you can really give that out? Just like that?"
John nodded. "Consider it my extra-special apology."
A backstage pass! To meet him! Selene completely overwhelmed, "I agree! Yes! Absolutely!"
A wave of relief washed over John. He handed her his card. "Call this number when you are discharged. And please, keep this arrangement quiet. Just between us." He didn't wait for her to reply, turning and leaving the room.
As he leaves, Easton watches from the hallway — hidden behind the doorframe. Relief washes over his face. She's a fan. That means she won't press charges, right?
"It was easier than I expected," John said, rubbing his hands together. "She turned out to be your fan."
Easton gives a faint, tired smile. "Only fans are that forgiving."
John pats his shoulder and heads off to make calls.
Easton finally straightens. "I need to clean up," he mutters.
Around the same time, inside the ward, Selene tries to get up, clutching the IV pole. The saline bag sways as she tries to reach the washroom, but the door is jammed. She hurried out of the room. Her weak footing, combined with the momentum of the IV pole, made her unsteady.
Just outside the public washroom door, she collided headfirst into a hard chest. Her weakened legs instantly failed her, and she started to fall backward.
The man reacted instantly, catching her firmly by the waist.
Selene looked up, and the world froze.
That small face. Sharp jawline. Those perfect features she's memorised a thousand times from photos.
Her lips part in disbelief.
"Oh my god," she whispers. "It's him… "