Lost and Found In Love (WRITING IN PROGRESS)

Chapter 6

The hospital at night felt different—quieter, heavier, as if the walls themselves were resting. The hum of machines and the occasional muffled footsteps of a nurse passing through the hallway were the only sounds breaking the stillness. William lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind too restless to sleep.

The day had left him unsettled. He kept replaying his conversation with Clara, the subtle tension that had crept between them. He had grown used to her presence, her unwavering encouragement, and the warmth she brought to the sterile room. Now, with her words from earlier lingering in his mind, he felt adrift.

"This is about your recovery, not me."

It wasn't that she had been unkind—far from it—but there had been a line in her voice, a boundary she seemed determined to reinforce. He couldn't blame her. If their roles were reversed, he might have done the same. But knowing that didn't make it any easier.

A faint knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. Before he could respond, the door creaked open, and Clara stepped inside. She wasn't in her scrubs anymore, but in a light cardigan and jeans, her hair loosely tied back. She looked different—softer, more human.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked, closing the door behind her.

William shook his head, sitting up slightly. "Not much of a sleeper these days," he said. "You?"

Clara smiled faintly, pulling the chair closer to his bed. "Sometimes I think I spend so much time in this place that I forget how to turn my brain off when I leave."

"That makes two of us," William muttered. He gestured toward the chair. "What are you doing here? Your shift ended hours ago."

Clara shrugged, sitting down. "I was on my way out and thought I'd check in on you. Nighttime can be... tough, especially when you're stuck with your own thoughts."

He chuckled softly. "You're not wrong about that."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the day still hanging between them. Clara folded her hands in her lap, her expression unreadable.

"You seemed off today," William said finally, his voice quiet. "Did I do something?"

Clara blinked, surprised. "No," she said quickly. "It's not you. I just..." She hesitated, searching for the right words. "I've been trying to find the right balance, and it's harder than I thought."

"Balance?" he echoed, frowning.

Clara nodded, her gaze dropping to her hands. "Between being your nurse and... being something more. I care about your recovery, William. I care about you. And sometimes I worry that I'm crossing a line."

Her honesty stunned him into silence. He hadn't expected her to admit it—hadn't even realized how much he needed to hear it until now.

"Clara," he said after a long pause, his voice steady. "You've done more for me than anyone else has. You're the only reason I've made it this far. If caring about me is crossing a line, then maybe it's a line worth crossing."

Clara looked up, her eyes meeting his. There was a vulnerability in her expression that he hadn't seen before, a crack in the armor she always wore so carefully. "It's not that simple," she said softly. "There are rules. Expectations. If I get too close, it could complicate things—for both of us."

William leaned forward slightly, his gaze intent. "My whole life is a complication right now," he said. "And you're the only part of it that makes sense."

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. Finally, she shook her head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You're impossible," she said, her voice tinged with affection.