Chapter 4 4

The city was quiet that night. Not silent, no-but the kind of quiet that made headlights feel too bright and made even the softest footsteps echo a little louder than usual. The streets were mostly empty, bathed in the dim orange hue of the streetlamps that flickered like they were tired. It was past midnight, and the world was resting.

Katherine had just closed up the small coffee shop where she worked part-time. She pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders as the cool wind tugged at her hair. Her boots clicked softly on the pavement as she walked the same path she always did. There was nothing unusual about the night-until she saw something on the side of the road.

Someone.

She slowed down, eyes narrowing as she stepped cautiously closer. A man was lying there, half on the sidewalk, half in the grass. His expensive jacket was crumpled and stained with spilled liquor. One of his shoes had come off. His head was turned slightly to the side, and even from a distance, Katherine could tell-he was drunk. Not tipsy. Not dazed. I drank to the point of being barely conscious.

She hesitated, heart picking up speed.

"Hey..." she called out softly, unsure if he could even hear her. "Hey, are you okay?"

No response.

She crouched down carefully, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she looked at him more closely. His eyes were half-open, glazed over, unfocused-but for a brief second, they landed on her. His gaze locked onto hers, and something flickered.

"...Beth?" he whispered.

Katherine blinked. "What?"

His voice cracked. "Beth... you're here. I knew you'd come back..."

She swallowed, taken aback. "I'm not-I'm not Beth. My name is Katherine."

But he was already fading, his lids heavy. He mumbled something else she couldn't make out, then passed out completely.

For a moment, Katherine sat there frozen, torn between confusion and concern. She didn't know who this man was, but there was something broken in the way he looked at her. Something that hit deeper than she expected. He wasn't just drunk. He was lost.

She quickly hailed a taxi, and the driver assisted her in getting Kingsley into the car before driving them to the hospital.

The emergency room was cold, clinical, and smelled faintly of antiseptic. Katherine sat in the waiting area, her coat draped over her lap, hands clutched around a styrofoam cup of lukewarm coffee she hadn't taken a single sip from. Her mind kept replaying the last few moments-his slurred voice, the confusion in his eyes, and the name he whispered.

Beth.

She didn't know who Beth was. But whoever she was, that name clearly meant something to him.

The nurse had asked her if she was his family. Katherine shook her head. "No, I just found him on the road." And then, after a pause, she added, "But... I didn't want to leave him there."

The nurse gave her a look of sympathy and nodded. "We'll let you know when he wakes up."

It was nearly 2 a.m. by the time someone approached her. A young man in scrubs. "Miss... Katherine?"

She stood quickly. "Yes?"

"He's stable now. He had a dangerously high blood alcohol level, but we've gotten it down. He's conscious-tired, disoriented-but awake. He's asking for water."

She followed the nurse down a quiet hallway, her boots soft on the tiled floor. Room 208. The door was cracked open. She stepped inside slowly.

He was propped up on the bed, an IV in his arm, and a small cut just above his eyebrow. His hair was messy, and his eyes-deep, heavy-lidded-slowly turned to her as she stepped in. He blinked once. Then again.

"You..." His voice was raspier now. Clearer.

Katherine took a few cautious steps forward. "I'm the one who found you."

He stared at her for a long moment. His eyes narrowed slightly. "You're... not Beth."

She shook her head. "No. I told you that already."

He looked away, jaw tightening, pain flashing across his face in a way that had nothing to do with the IV or the cut. "Of course you're not."

She hesitated. "Who is Beth?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached for the cup of water by the nightstand with a shaky hand. She moved forward instinctively and helped guide it to his lips.

"Thanks," he mumbled, not quite meeting her eyes.

She studied him. "You scared me, you know. I thought you might-" Her voice cracked a little. "You shouldn't be drinking like that."

He gave a soft, humorless laugh. "Yeah. Well. I wasn't exactly planning on waking up."

Silence fell between them for a moment. It was heavy. Thick.

"I'm sorry," he added quietly.

"You don't even know me," she said.

"No, I don't," he replied, his voice lower now. "But you helped me anyway. That says something."

Katherine sat down in the chair beside the bed. "I don't even know your name."

He turned his head slowly toward her. "Kingsley."

She blinked. "That sounds... expensive."

That earned a very faint smile from him. "It is."

Katherine relaxed a little. There was something in his voice-something sharp and smooth at the same time. Like a man who had seen too much and was trying not to let it show.

She leaned back in the chair, looking at him. "Well, Kingsley... you owe me one."

His gaze softened for just a moment. "Maybe I do."