Chapter 2

JENNA sat down, then immediately got up again. She couldn't stay still, not while he was still in the treatment room. The metallic scent of his blood still clung to her hands and clothes. His backpack sat beside her, untouched. Her eyes never left the door.

"Jenna!"

That was the last thing she heard before everything turned tragic. He had saved her from getting crushed by a falling signboard—only to get badly injured himself.

"O god..." She shut her eyes, trying to steady her shaky breaths.

If something happened to that man, she would never forgive herself.

Jenna jumped to her feet as soon as a nurse stepped out of the room. "How is he?"

The nurse glanced at her. "Are you a family member?"

Jenna shook her head. "I don’t know him. He got hurt saving me."

The nurse nodded, pausing before speaking again. "His head injury is serious. The doctor is treating him now. He lost a lot of blood, but we’ve replaced it with a transfusion. You really don’t know him? Do you know how to contact his family?"

"I… I don’t know. Maybe he has an ID on him? I checked his bag, but there was nothing."

"I see," the nurse replied. "I'll check his clothes later. But don’t worry, he’s stable now. It's just..."

"Just what?"

The nurse hesitated.

Jenna’s chest tightened. "Does he have broken bones? Is he… going to be paralyzed?"

"No, nothing like that. No broken bones. But… we really need to speak with his family."

Jenna knew she couldn’t push the nurse for more answers. Maybe they would be able to contact his family soon.

"You should go home," the nurse suggested. "He’ll be in there for a while. And since you’re not family, you can’t go in. You look shaken up too. Accidents like this can be traumatizing. Go home, clean up, and get some rest. You need to calm yourself."

Jenna nodded numbly but how was she supposed to rest when she had no idea what was happening to him? How was she supposed to sleep peacefully when he was fighting for his life because of her?

"You’re so stupid, Jenna. You should’ve just stayed at the office. Now someone nearly died because of you."

She let out a shaky sigh. One last glance at the treatment room, then she turned to leave.

Her step halted when she accidentally knocked over his backpack. The zipper wasn’t fully closed, and some of the contents almost spilled out. She reached down to zip it up, but her hand froze when she saw a black folder inside.

Curiosity prickled at her. A paper was sticking out slightly.

Slowly, she pulled it out.

A drawing.

Her breath hitched.

It was a portrait of a woman.

Her.

Jenna’s heart pounded. She pulled out the folder and flipped through the papers inside.

Sketch after sketch.

Her face.

Rough pencil strokes, detailed shading—dozens of portraits of her.

Jenna sank back into the chair, stunned.

"It’s him. Ben."

She sat there, staring at the folder in her hands, trying to make sense of everything.

Slowly, she put the drawings back into the bag and zipped it up completely this time. Then, without thinking, she hugged the bag to her chest.

"Jenna, are you okay?"

She jolted at the sound of Latifa’s voice.

"You okay?" Latifa asked again.

Jenna nodded.

"You sure? What happened?"

Jenna looked at her friend for a long moment.

"I… I want to go home."

BEN'S backpack was still clutched in Jenna’s arms. His blood had stained her clothes. She sat in the living room, lost in thought, while Latifa and Sue tried to comfort her.

"He saved you? How is he now?"

Jenna shook her head.

"So… is he okay or not?" Sue asked.

"You should rest tonight. You must be shaken up. Go take a shower and get some sleep. Want me to stay with you?"

Jenna just shook her head and quietly walked to her room.

She sat at her desk, staring at the backpack. A silent debate raged in her mind—should she go through it or not? The portraits in the folder… they were of her. There was no way it was just a coincidence. It was her face, drawn by him.

After a few minutes of hesitation, she gave in. She unzipped the bag and emptied its contents onto the table. A black folder, a book that looked like a journal or diary, a few pencils and pens, a small container of candy, and a business card.

She picked up each item one by one, but her attention kept returning to the black folder. Slowly, she flipped through the portraits. Every angle of her face had been sketched. Some were close-ups, others captured her from the shoulders up. There was no doubt—it was her.

Then, she remembered another drawing.

Jenna reached for the portrait she had found a few days ago and placed it next to the ones in the folder. The technique, the strokes—they were identical.

And at the bottom of that particular drawing, there were words written in neat handwriting.

I love you, Jenna.

—Ben

She leaned back in her chair, stunned. The two drawings sat side by side on her desk. The same person. The same artist.

Jenna flipped through the other sketches. None of them had any words written on them. Only this one.

"So… he’s been watching me all this time? He knows where I go? Did he follow me all the way to… the accident site?"

Jenna glanced at the scattered drawings on her desk.

"Ben."

The man who had saved her—he was Ben. The mystery artist who had been sketching her all this time.

Her mind went blank. Everything from earlier that day still felt surreal. Without thinking, she got up and headed to the bathroom.

The hot water did little to clear her thoughts. Even after drying off and getting into bed, sleep wouldn’t come. Her mind kept circling back to one thing.

Who was Ben?

Judging by the sheer number of portraits, he had been watching her for a long time. But how long? Since when?

Jenna sat up suddenly, eyes landing on the journal she had yet to open.

"If he’s been following me all this time… then it’s only fair if I read what’s inside. He invaded my privacy… so I’ll invade his. That’s fair… right?"

She picked up the journal.

And then she started reading.

She didn’t stop until the early hours of the morning.

BEN tried to move his left fingers. Slowly, his hand curled into a weak fist. He felt drained. His eyelids twitched, heavy, resisting the effort to open.

A faint sound—like the wind—whispered in his ears. His body shivered slightly from the cold air surrounding him.

His eyes finally opened halfway. Blurry vision sharpened bit by bit. A plain ceiling greeted him. Ben turned his head left and right.

A room. Empty. He was alone.

He tried to sit up, but his body refused to cooperate. Even lifting his head felt impossible. His strength was completely gone.

Then he realized—he was lying on a bed. But where exactly was this place?

His right hand slowly reached up to touch his head. It was wrapped in bandages. A sharp sting pulsed at the left side of his skull. He was injured.

Ben let out a short breath, trying to remember what had happened. How did he end up here?

Nothing.

His mind was completely blank.

The sudden creak of a door broke the silence, snapping him out of his daze.

"Oh my god, Ben… you’re awake!"

Ben frowned, his gaze landing on the woman who had just entered. He stared at her, trying to place her face, but his mind drew a blank.

"Ben? Can you hear me?" The woman waved a hand in front of his face.

"Who… are you?" he echoed, uncertain.

Beatrice moved closer to the bed, studying his face. "Ben… it’s me, Beatrice. Your sister. Do you remember?"

Ben struggled to process her words.

"You don’t remember?" she asked again, her voice laced with worry.

Ben remained silent.

Beatrice exhaled shakily and leaned against the bed. Just as the doctor had warned—there was a chance he might suffer memory loss due to the brain trauma.

But maybe… maybe he hadn’t lost everything.

"Ben, do you remember your own name?"

Her brother didn’t respond. His expression remained lost, confused.

"Your name is Ben. And I’m Beatrice, your sister."

Ben didn’t react. He just sat there, quiet, as she explained everything, but nothing made sense to him. His mind was empty, a void where memories should have been.

None of her words stuck.

The only thing he knew at that moment—was fear.

And yet, he couldn’t even show it.

JENNA woke up to the sound of the dawn alarm. Blinking away the sleep, she sat up groggily. She had no idea what time she had dozed off.

She marked the page in Ben’s journal before closing it. With a sigh, she grabbed her towel and headed to the bathroom.

After almost ten minutes taking bath, Jenna sat on the bed, lost in thought. Her mind replayed everything she had read in the journal last night.

I’d be a fool to say I never want to be honest with Jenna. Who in this world wouldn’t want the person they love to know how they feel? I’m not afraid of rejection. Everyone has their own choices. If Jenna doesn’t choose me, I can accept that. If she belongs to someone else, I’ll accept that too.

But as far as I know, Jenna doesn’t have a boyfriend. I’ve been watching her, so I know who she meets and who her friends are. I even know her housemates. So, there’s no way she’s married. But now, I’m stuck. Jenna would definitely be scared if I suddenly showed up and confessed everything.

Be friends with her? I don’t think I can. What if I grow to love her even more, but she doesn’t feel anything for me? I’m afraid of being heartbroken. Heartbreak makes people irrational.

Jenna, if only you knew how much I miss you.

That was the last entry in the journal. The next page was completely blank.

Jenna exhaled heavily.

"Should I visit him? I wonder how he’s doing now… The nurse said he was stable yesterday."

She bit her lip.

"I have to see him. I have to thank him. But…"

Her gaze fell on Ben’s backpack.

If she went, she would have to face him. The man who had secretly loved her all this time.

What would she even say if he suddenly confessed?

"Ugh…"

There was no way she could pretend none of this had happened. This man had saved her life. If she didn’t at least show up, it would mean she was ungrateful. It would mean she didn’t appreciate what he had done for her.

"Oh god…"

Jenna ran her hands down her face, overwhelmed.

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