Chapter 19
Collins
I noticed Anna’s birthday on her chart—two weeks away.
“What does she like?” I asked quietly.
Her father looked at me, momentarily confused, as he sat beside her bed with his other daughter. The machines hummed softly around us, steady and unchanging.
“Other than beads, she’s not particular,” he said after a moment. “Anything useful. Or thoughtful.” He paused, studying me. “Why do you ask?”
“I want to get her something.”
“You don’t have to do that,” he mumbled.
“I know,” I replied. “But I want to.”
He hesitated. “Do you buy gifts for all your patients?”
“No.” The word came too quickly. “This one is… different.”
The slip hung in the air.
He frowned slightly, uncertainty flickering across his face. Before he could say anything, Anna’s sister began signing—her hands moving fast and expressive. Her father followed closely, then his eyes widened a fraction as understanding settled in.
“She remembers something,” he said. “Before the wedding.”
I straightened. “What is it?”
“She says Anna once stopped in a store,” he continued, glancing between me and his daughter. “She saw a pair of fur-lined morning slippers. A luxury brand.”
My throat tightened. “Do you know which one?”
Her sister signed again, slower now, more precise. He nodded as she finished.
“She remembers clearly. Loro Piana,” he said. “Cream-coloured. Fur-lined, soft suede. Little leather bows at the front. Anna stood there for a long time. Touched them. Smiled.”
He swallowed. “But she didn’t buy them. Too expensive.”
I nodded, quietly absorbing every detail. Cream fur. Suede. Small bows. Something she wanted but never allowed herself.
Perfect.
Something thoughtful.
They sat with her for a while, then quietly took their leave. The room settled again, the soft hum of machines filling the silence.
Not long after, two women entered.
Chloe and Veronica.
I was surprised to see Veronica.
“How many times have you been here?” Chloe asked, her voice low but edged.
"I wouldn't be here if you didn't ask me," Veronica said, getting defensive.
“Why are you like this?” Chloe snapped. “I thought the two of you had sorted things out after that so-called heartfelt apology. Besides, if anyone has the right to be angry, it’s Anna—if she wakes up and finds out you went after her husband behind her back.”
I kept my focus on Anna, adjusting the IV line, checking the monitor, pretending I wasn’t listening.
“That’s just it,” Veronica said, her tone shifting. “He’s different with me.”
Chloe frowned. “Different how?”
“With her, he was affectionate. Always touching her. Buying her things. With me?” Veronica let out a bitter laugh. “I have to initiate everything. He kisses me, sometimes, but that’s it. He gets irritated easily. And he doesn’t even get jealous when other men talk to me.”
She paused. “With Anna, he was jealous all the time.”
Chloe exhaled sharply. “You can’t expect him to be the same with you. Anna was his soulmate.”
She didn’t soften the words. “You’re the rebound. You’re not the one. Maybe it’s time you accept that, and find your own.”
Silence followed.
I glanced up just in time to see the truth land. Veronica’s face faltered, the confidence draining from it as reality settled in.
I crossed the room to Anna’s bedside, watered the plant as usual. Then, out of habit, I smoothed the blanket near her shoulder, small, careful adjustments.
I felt their eyes on me.
Chloe’s voice dropped, conspiratorial, when she turned to Veronica. “Do you see what I’m seeing?”
Veronica followed her gaze.
“He cares for her,” Chloe continued. “Like she matters to him. Those little things, watering the plant, fixing the blankets. Even nurses don’t pay that much attention to detail.”
“Of course,” Veronica snapped, her voice rising before she forced it lower again. “Why does she always get the princess treatment? Everywhere she goes.” Her jaw tightened. “That’s why I hate her so much.”
“What the hell, Veronica?” Chloe said, stunned. “That’s it? She’s our friend, and this is your reaction?”
She stood up from the chair and turned toward the door. “I’m leaving.”
“Wait!” Veronica called, rushing after her.
The door closed behind them.
The room fell quiet again.
And Anna remained still, steady, untouched by the bitterness spoken around her.
I turned my attention to the crystal jar.
Today marked one month since I’d dropped the first bead inside.
I didn’t add one tonight.
One month deserved something different. Something that marked the day properly. I reached for her chart, checked her shoe size, committed it to memory, then stepped out of the room before I could talk myself out of it.
After finishing my rounds, I freshened up and left the hospital, the city already sinking into evening.
I stopped at a boutique jewellery store first. Quiet and discreet.
I chose a single diamond, small and intentional.
A 0.25 carat, certified by an independent gemmological lab.
Something that wouldn’t scream extravagance, just small enough to mark time.
Enough to mean something. Not for display, just for her.
Then I went to Loro Piana.
The slippers were exactly as her sister had described—cream fur lining, soft suede, delicate leather bows at the front. I held them for a moment, already imagining them waiting for her.
Halfway back to the car, doubt crept in.
This was too much.
How would this look when she woke up? How would I explain it? Maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe it would be better if the gifts stayed anonymous. I made a mental note to speak to her father and sister—ask them not to tell her where they came from.
Otherwise, I'm toast.
Back at the hospital, the corridors were quiet again. I placed the slippers neatly near her bed, close enough that they’d be the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes—whenever that happened.
Then I returned to the jar.
I dropped the diamond in carefully, letting it disappear among the beads—hidden. A treasure she’d only understand later.
I sat beside her and spoke softly, filling the silence with words meant only for her. I hoped she didn't catch those harsh comments.
I noticed one of her nails had split slightly, a tiny jagged edge catching the soft hospital light. My fingers hovered for a moment, hesitant, knowing this was probably unnecessary—but I couldn’t ignore it.
I spotted the small nurse’s drawer by the bedside, open from earlier rounds. Inside, a nail clipper and a file sat neatly. Carefully, I picked them up, my movements quiet so as not to disturb the monitors.
I gently trimmed the broken edge , then smoothed it with the file. Each motion was careful, so mundane, yet it made my pulse quicken. There was something intimate about it, the closeness of touch, the focus on a detail no one else noticed.
I brushed my fingers lightly over hers when I finished, a soft gesture of care lingering in the air. My chest tightened, my mind warning me this shouldn’t feel like this. But it did.
Then, from the corner of my eye, I caught movement. Veronica was standing in the doorway. Arms crossed, gaze fixed on me, not on Anna. Not accusing. Not curious. Certain.
“You’re falling for her, aren’t you?” she said quietly, her voice calm, almost resigned.
I froze.