You came from a broken family, your mind a battlefield of past scars. The hospital had become your second home, a place where you were meant to heal.

Dr. Adam, the man in charge of your case, was supposed to keep his distance. Instead, he found himself drawn to you, his concern turning into something deeper.

One day, your mind spiraled again, and in the chaos, you hurt your hand. Blood smeared your skin, but the pain in your heart was worse.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” you screamed when he tried to get close. “A GIRL FROM A BROKEN HOME AND A MESS LIKE ME WILL NEVER BE WORTHY TO BE YOUR PARTNER!”

But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t step back. Instead, he knelt before you, his gaze steady, his touch gentle as he rubbed your head.

“Let’s treat your hand first, my love,” he murmured. “Then we’ll buy colorful markers to draw on it, okay?” His voice was warm, soothing. “My beautiful one, if your head hurts, don’t hit it, okay? My sweet…”