Chapter 13: Finally Awake.
first day Keifer woke up, the doctors didn't let him talk much.
"Minimal stimulation," they said.
"His body is still recovering from major trauma."
But they clearly didn't know Keifer Watson.
Because even barely conscious, he was already trying to sit up.
"Don't move," I said immediately, pressing his shoulder gently.
His face tightened from the pain.
"…Hospital?" he asked, voice rough.
"Yes."
Pause.
"…You?"
"I'm fine."
His eyes scanned my face.
My arm.
The faint healing cut near my forehead.
His jaw tightened.
That expression.
The one that meant he was already replaying the accident in his head.
"You got hit too," he said.
"Minor injuries," I answered quickly.
He kept looking.
Like he didn't believe the word minor.
"I'm okay," I repeated softly.
Only then did his shoulders relax a little.
Day 12 – Recovery Begins
The doctor came in.
"You're very lucky, Mr. Watson. Multiple fractures, internal bleeding… most patients would need weeks just to regain stability."
Keifer's response:
"When can I walk?"
The doctor blinked.
"…Not today."
Keifer didn't look pleased.
After the doctor left, I crossed my arms.
"You were in a coma for eleven days."
Silence.
Then he looked at me.
"You stayed?"
"All eleven."
Another pause.
His voice was quieter this time.
"You should've gone home."
I leaned back in my chair.
"And leave you alone so you could wake up and immediately try to run the world from a hospital bed?"
He didn't deny it.
Day 13
Section E was finally allowed to visit.
They entered the room like a nervous parade.
Felix stopped at the door.
"…You look less dead. That's good."
Aries exhaled slowly.
"Don't scare us like that again."
Ci-N placed a bag on the table.
"For Jay," she said. "She forgot how to live outside this room."
Keifer looked at me.
"You didn't leave?"
"No."
Felix wiped his eyes dramatically.
"This is true love. If I'm ever in a coma, please visit once a week."
"No," Aries said. "We'll send flowers."
For the first time since waking up—
Keifer almost smiled.
Day 14
Physical therapy started.
It was slow.
Painful.
Standing took effort.
Walking took focus.
But Keifer didn't complain once.
Not to the doctors.
Not to the therapist.
Not even when his hands trembled from the strain.
Later, when we were alone, I asked:
"Does it hurt?"
"Yes."
"Then why don't you slow down?"
His answer was simple.
"I lost eleven days."
That afternoon, someone else came.
Keizer Watson.
The room immediately felt colder.
He stood near the bed, observing the monitors, the bandages, the posture.
"You survived critical trauma," he said.
Not relief.
Assessment.
Keifer looked at him calmly.
"Yes."
A pause.
Then Keizer added:
"The driver was intoxicated."
Silence.
"But the investigation is ongoing."
That sentence meant something else.
Keifer understood immediately.
"You think it wasn't random," he said.
"I don't assume coincidence," Keizer replied.
His eyes shifted briefly to me.
"Your attachment remains visible."
Then back to his son.
"That increases your exposure."
Keifer's voice didn't change.
"She stays."
It wasn't a discussion.
Keizer held his gaze for a moment.
Then nodded once.
Before leaving, he said:
"Recovery faster."
Translation:
Be ready.
Day 15 – That Night
The room was quiet again.
Keifer was sitting up, stronger now.
Still pale.
Still healing.
But the calm around him had changed.
It wasn't hospital calm anymore.
It was Watson calm.
Dangerous calm.
"Jay," he said.
"Yes?"
"What do you remember about the crash?"
I explained.
The intersection.
The speeding car.
The impact from his side.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he asked one more question.
"Before the impact… did the car slow down?"
I thought about it.
The headlights.
The speed.
The direction.
"No," I said slowly.
"It didn't try to stop."
Silence filled the room.
Then Keifer leaned back slightly.
His expression turned cold.
Focused.
Calculating.
"That wasn't a drunk mistake," he said quietly.
My stomach tightened.
"What do you mean?"
His eyes moved to me.
"The angle of impact was on my side."
Pause.
"The only side that mattered."
The room suddenly felt too small.
Too quiet.
Too dangerous.
Then he reached for my hand.
His grip was still weak.
But his voice wasn't.
"They tried to remove my protection."
I swallowed.
"Protection?"
His eyes locked on mine.
"You."
Silence.
Then he said the words that made the air turn cold.
"They didn't just hit the car."
"They targeted us."