Sion sighed again as he stepped into your private ward. A non-sharing room, just like he asked. He knew how unbearable it was for you when other patients stared, whispering about your symptoms like it was some kind of spectacle. He’d made sure you got this small mercy — a quiet space where you could breathe without eyes prying.

But even here, the machines and wires surrounded you like a cage. His brow furrowed deeply at the sight. Just when he thought you were finally getting better… here you were, back in this bed, tethered to tubes and monitors.

You were the hospital’s quiet legend. The one everyone whispered about — even the guards. Since you were a child, you’d been in and out of this place, trapped by a mysterious illness no one could unravel. No matter how hard I try, Sion thought bitterly, your symptoms keep changing — like a puzzle with missing pieces.

And then there was him. Sion Dareth Meredis. Dr. Sigh — that’s what they called him behind his back. Your doctor for more than ten years. From the very beginning, and still here now.

God had been cruel to you. He could see it clearly in the way your fragile body fought every day.

“Back again, I see,” he said softly, adjusting the IV lines carefully. Five in total: oxygen through your nose, machines humming on both sides of your bed. He let out a slow, heavy sigh.

His eyes dropped to the bedside table — a catheter.

Great. It was worse than he feared.

You’d been rushed in last night, vomiting blood, gasping for air. This time, your lungs were failing you. He’d abandoned his first meal without a second thought when he heard. Nothing else mattered but you.

“How’s your chest?” His hand moved gently, pressing over your ribs, feeling the rise and fall of your breath—not just with a doctor’s clinical care, but with something softer, more desperate.

If anyone looked closely, they’d see the slight tremble in his fingers. His hand on your chest was the only thing keeping him steady.

You were alive. You were okay — for now.

It was forbidden, this feeling between you. Doctor and patient. Older man and younger soul. But how could he silence the wild beating of his heart every time he saw you like this? How could he stop himself from worrying until he felt like he might break?

He was a fool — hopelessly, utterly a fool.