Lance stood motionless, his eyes fixed on Virginia as she slept. Her hair flowed across the pillow in soft waves, framing a face so serene it seemed untouched by the world. Her breathing was even, her expression calm. Yet, as he watched, it felt as though he was looking past her, seeking someone entirely different. The resemblance was uncanny. From where he stood, Virginia's profile echoed Addison's so clearly that it stopped him cold. The cigarette in his hand burned low, its ash falling in uneven clumps, unnoticed. Ordinarily, there was no mistaking the two women. Addison and Virginia had always been opposites in every sense—one commanding, the other gentle; one rooted in quiet strength, the other vibrant and free. At best, their features bore a passing similarity. But now, without makeup and lost in sleep, Virginia seemed to wear Addison's face.Lance stared, unable to look away. Virginia's lively energy had slipped away in sleep, replaced by a quiet presence that made her seem older, almost introspective. It brought Addison to mind in a way that felt both strange and unsettling. He didn't understand it. And yet, he couldn't shake the feeling. For the first time, he was seeing Addison in Virginia, as if the two had merged in his mind. The longer he looked, the more the room faded. In his thoughts, Virginia wasn't lying in the hotel bed anymore. She had transformed into Addison, pale and unconscious, as she had been in the hospital. He could see Addison's flushed cheeks, her hair fanned out across the pillow, her lashes still as the wings of a butterfly. Without thinking, he moved closer. Some force drove him forward, though he couldn't name it. He reached the edge of the bed, his hand rising as if to check for a fever, to see if she was recovering. But then, as his fingers hovered near her forehead, the illusion shattered.The girl hadn't moved an inch, but everything was different. From a different angle, Virginia resembled Addison not at all. As if his hallucination was smashed into pieces brutally, he pulled his hand back. His heart jolted. This wasn't Addison. This wasn't a hospital room. The girl before him was Virginia. She had always been Virginia—his Virginia, the woman he had mourned for years. How had he made such a mistake? How had he allowed himself to forget? Lance's hand dropped abruptly, curling into a fist at his side. He stepped back, his gaze darting away, as though the truth itself was too much to face. His shoulders tensed, his body stiff with the weight of realization. For so long, he had used Addison as a window into his memories of Virginia. Every glance at Addison, every moment he spent by her side, had been driven by a longing for someone she could never be.The love he had offered Addison wasn't hers. It had always belonged to Virginia. And now, in some cruel twist, the roles seemed to have flipped. It was Virginia who felt like the reflection, the substitute. The moon and its reflection. He couldn't tell one from the other anymore. The thought unsettled him to his core. Frustration welled up, sharp and suffocating. His chest grew tight, and his thoughts spun in chaotic loops, dragging him toward despair. Lance forced himself to look away. Turning abruptly, he broke the spell, refusing to let his eyes linger on Virginia any longer. He told himself again and again not to cross the line. That line, fragile as it was, had to remain intact. He walked out of the dim bedroom, each step measured and heavy. The living room seemed too quiet as he passed through it, his destination clear. Finally, he stepped onto the balcony. The morning was still in its infancy. The sun peeked over the horizon, its light barely stretching across the sky. Hues of orange and gold painted the edges of the clouds, signaling the start of a new day. Lance didn't bother checking his phone. Time seemed irrelevant now. The cigarette between his fingers burned down to its end, the ash crumbling with each passing moment. He stubbed it out in the glass ashtray, the faint smoke curling into the air before disappearing entirely. Yet his thoughts refused to settle. They circled in his mind, each one pulling him deeper into a storm he couldn't escape. His expression grew taut as the internal battle waged on. Each argument he crafted was countered by another, leaving him stranded in indecision. And then, he surrendered. Once. Just this once. He told himself it wouldn't matter. He only wanted to see if Addison was awake. She was, after all, his wife—if only by law. That had to mean something. Didn't it? He owed her this much. Ensuring her safety was his duty, nothing more. The logic felt solid, like a mantra he could cling to. Just making sure she's safe. Nothing more.His mother would ask about Addison eventually. He needed answers. If not for Addison's sake, then for hers. The light outside grew stronger, spreading across the city as the morning unfolded. The air carried a faint dampness, tiny droplets clinging to everything, giving the world a freshly washed sheen. Lance straightened, resolve settling in his chest. His brows knit tightly, his eyes sharp as his decision solidified. He grabbed his car keys, ready to leave for Preigh Hospital. But as he reached the door, he hesitated. His eyes drifted back toward the bedroom. Virginia lay still, her breathing soft, her figure unmoving under the covers. The thought struck him like a whisper in the back of his mind. Should he wake her? If she woke up and found him gone, would she feel abandoned again? She had called him the night before, her voice thick with tears. What if it happened again? What could he possibly say? Virginia had always been so vulnerable, so desperate for reassurance.His steps slowed, uncertainty weighing on him. He found himself standing by her bedside again, staring down at her. His hesitation lingered, his decision now a tangled mess. ... Addison stirred, her head heavy from the lingering effects of the medication. The blanket wrapped around her felt like a cocoon, warm and unyielding. Her thoughts drifted in and out, the haze thick. The voice reached her through the fog. "Angel ... Angel, wake up." She opened her eyes slowly, blinking as she tried to focus. Her fingers pressed against her temple, the motion grounding her. Leon stood at her side, a glass of water in one hand and a box of pills in the other. The name 'The Daves' was printed boldly on the label, its letters sharp and clear. "The driver's waiting downstairs," Leon said. "It's time to leave." His tone was even, steady. He held out the water and the pills, his movements precise. "Take these," he urged. "They'll help you recover." Addison nodded faintly. "Alright."With his help, she sat up, the blanket sliding away as she took the glass and the pills. The bitterness hit her immediately. It was sharp, almost unbearable, but she forced it down, her expression unreadable. Addison didn't so much as blink. She swallowed the pill in a single gulp, the bitterness hitting her tongue like a sharp jab. If it bothered her, she gave no sign. Leon's chest tightened as he watched her. "Take it slower. Do you want a piece of candy to help with the taste?" The question lingered between them, pulling his thoughts back to years ago. She used to hate anything bitter. As a child, she'd refuse medicine unless bribed with something sweet first, her favorite candies softening the blow. Now, that same girl swallowed the pill with an ease that left him unsettled. It was a stark reminder of how much she'd changed. Addison gave him a faint smile. "I'm not a little kid anymore." Her words carried a quiet weight, the kind born from experience. Memories of Harvey's accident pushed their way into her mind, unwanted but persistent. That year had been unbearable. She'd barely managed to get through it, leaning on a cocktail of medications to keep going. Those pills had tasted far worse than this one. "Let's go," she said, pulling the blanket aside and stepping out of bed. A nurse nearby moved swiftly to her side, sensing the moment before Leon could act. "Hold onto my arm. It'll help you keep your balance," the nurse said, her voice light but steady. Addison looked up, meeting the nurse's kind gaze. She nodded once. "Thank you." The nurse smiled, her tone almost playful. "No need to thank me. It's my job, and I'm happy to help." Her cheerfulness was contagious. Addison's mood, somber and heavy just moments before, lifted slightly. A flicker of a smile returned to her lips. Outside, a sleek car waited by the hospital entrance. Before Addison even reached the door, a small group of attendants rushed forward, their movements hurried but precise. "This way, Miss," one of them said, his voice firm yet deferential. The others jostled to assist her, their eagerness almost overwhelming. Addison hesitated, caught off guard by the flurry of attention. It felt foreign. After living alone in Halton for so long, she'd grown unaccustomed to this kind of care. Quietly, she stepped into the car, her movements calm and deliberate. Leon followed closely, settling into the seat beside her in silence. As the car door clicked shut, a tall man in a black coat entered the hospital. His stride was purposeful, his long legs cutting through the space with ease. The man's face was striking, his features sharp and defined. His brows, straight and dark, framed a pair of piercing eyes, and his jawline carried a strength that matched the rest of him. His black coat, tailored to perfection, amplified the air of distance he carried, as if he belonged to a world far removed from those around him. Yet, in his hand, he held something unexpected—a bouquet of gardenias. The flowers were arranged with precision, each bloom nestled among lush green leaves. Their white petals, flawless and soft, seemed untouched by the world's chaos, their purity a stark contrast to the man's stoic presence.The combination was almost unsettling. The delicate beauty of the gardenias clashed with the coldness of the man holding them, creating a dissonance that was impossible to ignore. Despite this, the man appeared oblivious to the stares he drew. His face, unyielding in its composure, and the bouquet, striking in its simplicity, became the subject of murmurs among the women nearby. "Who's he bringing those for?" one whispered, her voice laced with curiosity. "Whoever it is, she's got to be the luckiest girl alive," another replied, her tone filled with envy. But Lance didn't notice. He didn't care. His attention remained fixed, his purpose unshaken. Without sparing a glance at those around him, he strode toward the VIP ward, the bouquet steady in his grasp, like a soldier resolute in his mission.