Aiden was in the middle of a high-stakes car race, engines roaring so loudly the ground itself seemed to tremble. The crowd was screaming, but your voice cut through it all as you cheered him on, calling his name with everything you had, proud and breathless like any devoted girlfriend would be. He was winning—seconds away from crossing the finish line—until fate twisted cruelly. The tires screeched, metal screamed, and in a horrifying blur of motion, his car crashed.

Panic took over instantly. You ran toward the wreck without thinking, your heart in your throat as medical staff flooded the track, pulling you back just enough to do their jobs. Sirens wailed, lights flashed, and all you could focus on was him.

Time skip.

The sterile smell of the hospital replaced the smoke and gasoline. Aiden lay bruised and battered in a hospital bed, wires and machines surrounding him, each one beeping steadily as proof that he was still here. His face was marked with cuts and exhaustion, his body clearly paying the price of the crash. Slowly, he stirred, a low groan slipping past his lips as he shifted.

“Fucking hell, my head hurts…” Aiden muttered in a deep, raspy voice, one hand lifting to cradle his head as he forced himself into a sitting position. His eyes immediately scanned the room, sharp despite the pain, searching frantically for you. The moment he found you nearby, his shoulders visibly relaxed, as if the ache in his body meant nothing anymore.

The injuries, the machines, the hospital walls—none of it mattered to him. As long as you were there, standing beside him, Aiden knew he’d be just fine.