Equal Attraction [BRIGHTWIN]

CHAPTER 8:- Healing hearts

The sun hung low over Bangkok as Win and Bright stepped off the plane, the familiar humidity enveloping them like a warm blanket. The whirlwind of their argument still lingered in the air, thick and unresolved. Win stole a glance at Bright, who kept his gaze fixed ahead, jaw clenched, as they made their way through the bustling airport. Their usual banter was replaced by an awkward silence, each step heavy with the weight of unspoken words.

Back in the office, their routine resumed like clockwork, but the tension between them was palpable. Bright, usually a beacon of confidence, moved through his tasks with a rigidity that made Win’s heart ache. Meetings were conducted with curt exchanges, and even lunch breaks felt strained. Win tried to lighten the mood, cracking jokes that fell flat, met only with Bright's cool, detached demeanor. It felt like they were living in two separate worlds, both unwilling to bridge the gap that had formed between them.

Days turned into weeks, and the familiar rhythm of their lives resumed, but the shadow of their fight loomed large. Win tried to focus on his work, but his mind wandered back to the moment of their argument, replaying it in his head like a broken record. He missed the easy camaraderie they once shared, the playful teasing that felt like home.

Then came the day that changed everything.

Bright had been leaving for an important meeting when the call came in. Win was at his desk, typing away when his phone buzzed insistently. It was an unknown number, but something in his gut twisted. He answered, dread pooling in his stomach.

“Mr. Win? There’s been an accident. Bright is at the hospital.”

Win’s heart dropped. He raced to the hospital, the city blurring past him as he fought to keep panic at bay. When he arrived, the sterile smell of antiseptic and the fluorescent lights were overwhelming. He pushed through the sliding doors and found Bright in a small room, bandaged and unconscious. The sight of him lying there, so still, made Win’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Bright,” Win whispered, stepping closer. He could see the bruises on his arms, the way his hands were bandaged, and the IV drip that fed into his arm. It felt surreal, the man who was always so strong now rendered vulnerable.

Bright stirred slightly, eyes fluttering open, confusion crossing his face as he took in the room and then settled on Win. “What happened?” he croaked, voice hoarse.

“You were in an accident,” Win replied, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’ll be okay. They’re taking care of you.”

Bright attempted to lift his hands but winced, a grimace of pain flashing across his face. “My hands… I can’t feel them.”

Win’s heart sank. “The doctors said you might need some time to heal. Just focus on getting better, alright? I’ll be here.”

As the days passed, Bright remained in the hospital, and Win took a leave of absence to stay by his side. The initial fear faded into a quiet routine of hospital visits, awkward small talk, and shared silences. Win would read to Bright, trying to engage him in topics they used to enjoy, while Bright struggled with his frustration at being unable to work or even move freely.

The first time Bright managed to sit up, he looked at Win with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. “I’m sorry for how I’ve been,” he said, his voice soft but strained. “This whole thing… I didn’t handle it well.”

“It’s okay,” Win replied, heart swelling with relief. “We all have our moments. What matters is that you’re here now.”

As the weeks turned into months, Bright’s condition improved, and the bond between them began to heal, too. The sulky, distant Bright started to fade, replaced by glimpses of the old him. They laughed together over shared memories, and Win found himself teasing Bright about his hospital food, which elicited genuine smiles.

Eventually, Bright was discharged, and it was decided that he would stay at Win’s apartment during his recovery. “You don’t have to do this,” Bright insisted when Win offered his place. “I can manage.”

Win shook his head, determination in his gaze. “You’re not managing anything with those hands. Besides, I want to help.”

Their living arrangement felt like a new beginning, but it also brought challenges. Bright struggled with the limitations of his condition, often becoming frustrated and snapping at Win when he needed help. But each time Win remained patient, reminding Bright that this wasn’t a burden, it was a partnership.

One evening, as they sat on the couch, Bright let out a heavy sigh. “I feel useless, you know? I hate not being able to do anything.”

Win looked over at him, the dim light of the room casting shadows on Bright’s features. “You’re not useless. You’re recovering. It takes time, and I’ll be here for you, no matter how long it takes.”

Bright turned to face him, his expression softening. “Thank you for sticking around. I don’t deserve it.”

“You deserve it more than anyone,” Win replied, his voice firm. “You’re my boss, my friend, and I care about you.”

Bright’s gaze held his for a moment, vulnerability shining through. “I’ve realized something during all of this…”

“What’s that?”

Bright hesitated, taking a deep breath. “I’ve realized how much I take for granted… how much I need you in my life, not just as my assistant but as someone I care about deeply.”

Win’s heart raced at the confession, hope blossoming within him. “I feel the same way.”