LANA'S POV
The café was unusually quiet that afternoon.
The morning rush had passed, and the espresso machine let out a steady hum as I wiped down the counter for the third time.
Mira had gone to the back to restock syrups, and I was finally settling into the lull of routine when my phone buzzed against the counter.
Unknown number.
I hesitated. I rarely answered numbers I didn't recognize, but something tugged at me, an instinct I couldn't name.
"Hello?"
"Hi, this is the front desk of Magnolia Crown Hotel. I'm calling on behalf of a guest, Mr. Caleb Stone. He asked us to reach out to you. He's not feeling well."
My heart skipped. "What happened?"
"He seems to have a fever. He asked for you specifically. Should we call an ambulance instead?"
"No," I said quickly. "I'll be there right away."
I hung up without another word and immediately called Mira.
"Mira, I need a favor."
"Let me guess, Caleb?" she said without missing a beat.
"He's sick. At the Magnolia Crown. I need to go."
She didn't hesitate. "I'm on my way. Go."
I grabbed my keys and rushed out, apron still around my waist.
---
The Magnolia Crown Hotel was everything its name suggested, luxurious, warm-toned, intimidating in its polish. I'd never walked through those revolving doors before. But this time, I didn't stop to marvel.
"Room 1407," the receptionist said when I asked. "He's been waiting."
I took the elevator in silence. My reflection in the mirror-lined walls looked strange, like I was stepping out of my world and into his.
When I reached his floor, I walked fast down the carpeted hall, heart pounding. I didn't knock when I reached the room. I just opened the door.
The lights were dim. Curtains half drawn. Caleb lay in bed, propped up against pillows, sweat clinging to his brow, skin a few shades paler than usual.
"Caleb," I breathed, dropping my bag and rushing to his side.
He looked up with heavy eyes. "Lana?"
"I'm here."
A small smile cracked his lips. "You came."
I touched his forehead. Burning. I pressed my palm to his cheek, brushing damp hair away. "You should've gone to the hospital."
"No. Just needed someone I trust."
That hit me like a slow wave.
He trusted me.
And now, he needed me.
---
I found the minibar fridge and grabbed a cold water bottle, gently pressing it to his temple. He flinched a little, but then sighed.
"You're burning up," I murmured. "When did this start?"
"Last night. Didn't think it was bad."
I glanced at the untouched soup cup on the nightstand, then at the folded suit jacket tossed over the chair. Even sick, Caleb managed to exist like a perfect contradiction, part disarray, part elegance.
I found a small towel, dampened it with cold water from the bathroom, and returned to sit beside him.
"Open your mouth," I said, unwrapping the fever meds I'd found in the vanity.
He did, no protest. Just watched me.
"You're taking care of me," he whispered after swallowing.
"Yes. And you're a terrible patient."
He chuckled weakly. "I never get sick. Not like this."
"You're not invincible."
"Don't tell anyone."
I rolled my eyes but smiled. The room was silent for a while, except for the quiet whir of the air conditioning and the occasional soft sigh from him as I dabbed his forehead.
"I'm glad it was you," he said suddenly.
I looked down at him. "Glad it was me what?"
"Who came."
I didn't say anything. I just kept wiping his brow, letting the silence say what words couldn't.
---
Hours passed. I stayed.
At some point, I curled into the chair by his bed, half-dozing, checking his temperature every hour, refilling water, replacing the cloth on his forehead.
He drifted in and out of sleep, mumbling now and then. Once he said my name. Once he whispered something about New York.
When he stirred again, it was close to midnight.
"You're still here," he rasped.
"Where else would I be?"
"I thought maybe you'd leave. Like the others."
I stood and sat beside him on the bed, smoothing the blanket over his chest.
"I'm not the others."
He turned his head slowly to look at me. "I know."
I brushed a lock of hair off his face. "Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."
His eyes fluttered shut. "Promise?"
I swallowed. "Promise."
---
I didn't sleep much. I stayed by his side most of the night, dozing in short bursts. In the stillness of that dark hotel room, I watched him breathe, watched color slowly return to his cheeks.
Some part of me knew, deep down, that this night would shift things.
Not just between us.
But inside me.
Because I didn't come here just because he asked.
I came because I wanted to.
Because I cared.
And somewhere, without realizing it, I'd stopped protecting myself from the truth.
I was falling for Caleb Stone.
Whether or not I was ready… didn't matter anymore.