Hook: The Novel (English)

Chapter 32: Igniting old flames

FORD'S P.O.V.

My eyes suddenly squinted as the sun's harsh rays hit my face, stabbing at my skin like tiny daggers. Annoyed, I groaned and yanked the blanket over my head, desperate to block out the light and crawl back into sleep. But a pounding throb behind my temples wouldn't let me rest—classic hangover symptoms.

Hangover?

My eyes flew open as realization hit me like a freight train. The drinks with the gang last night. How wasted had I been? And—wait—I was lying in a bed. Who the hell had taken me home?

I jolted upright, only to freeze in confusion.

This wasn't my room.

The familiar soft cream walls and cozy clutter of my place were nowhere to be seen. Instead, I was in a room drenched in black—dark walls, heavy curtains pulled aside just enough for the sharp morning light to cut through and cast long shadows across the floor.

Where the heck was I?

I glanced down at myself and let out a shaky breath of relief. I was still wearing the clothes from last night—a little rumpled but intact.

Okay, so no one had tried to change me or anything weird.

But where was I? And who had brought me here?

My eyes wandered across the room, searching for any clue. That's when my gaze landed on the nightstand. There, on a silver tray, sat a small bowl of soup covered with plastic wrap. Next to it, a folded note.

Curious, I grabbed the note and unfolded it.

"This is hangover soup—you might need it.
There's some medicine, too.
Please close the door when you leave.

– Gadiel"

My heart began to race as I read the letter, each word making it beat just a little faster. The handwriting was unmistakably his—clean, sharp strokes with just a slight tilt. It was simple, straightforward... but something about it made my chest feel tight.

Does this mean... I'm at Gadiel's place?

He brought me here?

He took care of me while I was drunk?

For a moment, I just sat there, holding the note like it was something fragile. A warmth spread through my chest—something like contentment, soft and familiar.

He could've left me anywhere. He could've ignored me, passed the responsibility to someone else, made an excuse.

But he didn't.

Even after all these years... he still brought me here.

Does that mean he doesn't hate me?

The thought stirred something deep inside—something I didn't expect to feel.

Hope.

A small, trembling spark began to bloom in my chest. Faint, delicate, but undeniable.

Maybe... just maybe...

It's not too late for me.

Not too late for us.

—————

A week had passed since the gathering, the hangovers, and that... chaotic night.

I hadn't seen Gadiel again since then.

After I woke up in his unit that morning, I quietly cleaned up, left a thank-you note on the table, and let myself out. I didn't want to overstay my welcome—or worse, make things awkward. Who was I to linger in his space like that? Just a drunk guest. A blast from the past.