Love in the ER

CHAPTER 46

Paris had settled into a comfortable rhythm in Paris, France. Her uncle had been overseeing the construction projects back in Mexico, helping her bring her vision of building care centers for orphans, the elderly, and cancer patients to life. She had been planning to return to Mexico to see the progress herself, but her uncle insisted that she stay in Paris if she wasn't ready. He reassured her that he would take care of everything and update her once the projects were set.

The offer gave Paris the chance to stay in Paris a little longer, and she had been grateful for the time. It felt like she was finally healing from the emotional rollercoaster that had led her there. But just when she was starting to find peace, she received devastating news—her grandmother had fallen ill.

Without a second thought, Paris booked the next flight to Mexico, her heart racing with worry. She couldn't imagine anything happening to her grandmother, the one person who had always been her anchor. Abuela Rosario had been admitted to the hospital, and Paris knew she had to be by her side.

When Paris arrived in Mexico, the familiar sights and sounds of her hometown flooded her senses, but none of it brought her any comfort. She rushed to the hospital, her mind focused solely on seeing her grandmother and making sure she was okay.

As soon as she entered the hospital, the familiar scent of antiseptic and the steady beeping of machines filled the air. Paris's heart pounded as she made her way to her grandmother's room. But when she opened the door, she was met with a sight that stopped her in her tracks.

Oliver was standing by her grandmother's bedside, monitoring her vitals, speaking softly to Abuela Rosario in a low voice. The moment Paris walked in, both Oliver and her grandmother looked up.

Oliver's eyes widened in surprise when he saw her. Paris stood frozen for a moment, her heart racing at the sight of him. It had been months since she'd last seen him, and though she had mentally prepared herself for this moment, nothing could have prepared her for the flood of emotions that hit her all at once.

"Paris, mija," her grandmother said weakly, her voice filled with warmth despite her condition. "You're here."

Paris quickly moved to her grandmother's side, kneeling beside the bed and taking her hand. "Yes, Grandma, I'm here," Paris whispered, her voice trembling as she fought back tears.

For a few moments, Paris focused solely on her grandmother, but she was acutely aware of Oliver standing on the other side of the bed, watching quietly. When she finally looked up at him, her heart skipped a beat. Oliver was as handsome as ever, but there was a coolness in his eyes that sent a chill through her.

"Oliver," Paris said softly, her voice tinged with a mix of surprise and sadness. "You're taking care of her?"

Oliver gave a small nod, his expression neutral. "I've been overseeing her care. She's stable for now, but we're running more tests."

His voice was calm, professional—devoid of any of the emotion Paris had been expecting. There was no warmth, no familiarity in his tone, just the detached manner of a doctor discussing a patient's condition. It was like he was a stranger, not the man she had once loved so deeply.

"Thank you," Paris whispered, her heart aching. She had known that things had changed between them, but she hadn't expected it to hurt this much. The way Oliver looked at her now—so distant, so indifferent—was like a knife to her chest.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence between them, and Paris could feel the weight of all the unsaid words hanging in the air. She wanted to ask him how he had been, to tell him how much she had missed him, but the look in his eyes told her that it wasn't the right time—or maybe it would never be the right time.

Instead, she turned back to her grandmother, her heart heavy. "I'm staying here, Grandma. I'm not going anywhere."

Her grandmother smiled weakly, squeezing Paris's hand. "I'm glad you're here, mija. But don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Paris nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. But she couldn't stop the pain that gnawed at her chest, a pain that had less to do with her grandmother's condition and more to do with the man standing across the bed.

After a few more moments of silence, Oliver stepped back. "I'll be checking on her again in a few hours," he said, his voice cool and detached. "If you need anything, just ask the nurses."

And with that, he left the room, leaving Paris standing by her grandmother's side, her heart shattered.

As the door closed behind him, Paris felt the tears finally slip down her cheeks. He didn't care anymore. The man who had once loved her with all his heart was gone, replaced by someone who treated her as just another person in the hospital.

Her grandmother watched her closely, her eyes filled with understanding. "You miss him, don't you?" she asked softly.

Paris nodded, her voice breaking. "I do, Grandma. I miss him every day."

Her grandmother sighed, giving her hand another gentle squeeze. "Sometimes, love changes. And sometimes, people change too."

Paris wiped her tears away, trying to compose herself. But as she stood there in the quiet hospital room, she realized that seeing Oliver again had brought all of her old feelings rushing back. She had thought she could move on, but being this close to him made her realize that a part of her still loved him.

But Oliver's indifference—his coolness toward her—made it clear that he had already moved on. The love they once shared was gone, and no matter how much Paris missed him, she couldn't change what had happened between them.

For now, all she could do was focus on her grandmother and try to mend her own heart.