The hospital ward had seen its share of drama—code blues, wild escapes, even the odd therapy dog in a tutu—but nothing had prepared Annabelle's friends for the arrival of the new guy.
Annabelle's friends were huddled together, whispering in frantic disbelief.
"Okay, can we just… rewind?" Riley whispered, eyes darting between the guy and the nurses' station. "He walked in, handed over some papers, said he's Anna's guardian, and everyone just… agreed? No questions, no ID check, nothing?"
Priya shook her head, still clutching her phone like it was a holy relic. "Not just agreed. Did you see Nurse Patel? She was practically swooning. I thought she was going to ask for his autograph on a prescription pad."
Emma's voice was hushed, reverent. "And Dr. Abrams! Last night she was talking about MRIs, psych evals, and compensation paperwork. Now she's all, 'Of course, sir, whatever you say, sir.' I mean, is he secretly a prince? Or a hypnotist? Or both?"
Ben, who prided himself on being the group's resident skeptic, just stared. "I don't know, but if he tells me to file his taxes, I think I'll do it. I mean, look at him. He probably gets free upgrades just for existing."
They all glanced over again.
There he was—lounging in the waiting area scrolling through his phone mindlessly like he'd been born to break every dress code in the book. His shirt was a wild swirl of black and cream, loose and open at the collar, hinting at a golden, sculpted neck and collarbone. A matching patterned headband kept his tousled hair perfectly in place, giving him the air of a rockstar who'd just wandered offstage and into a medical drama. Even the harsh hospital lighting seemed to soften around him, as if the universe itself was running a filter just for his benefit.
He was scrolling through his phone, completely unfazed by the chaos he'd caused, looking for all the world like he did this every Tuesday.
Priya squinted. "Do you think he's, like, an undercover prince? Or a secret government agent? Or maybe he's just really, really, really good at paperwork?"
Riley shook her head. "No one is that good at paperwork. Not even my mom."
Emma leaned in, lowering her voice to a dramatic whisper. "What if he's not even real? What if he's some kind of collective fever dream brought on by too much hospital coffee and not enough sleep?"
Ben just shrugged. "If he's a hallucination, he's the best one I've ever had."
They watched as another nurse drifted by, dazed and smiling, clutching a discharge form like it was a love letter. The guy glanced up, caught their gaze, and gave a small, knowing wave.
The group stared at each other, equal parts awe, suspicion, and the creeping suspicion that reality had just taken a coffee break.
"Okay," Priya whispered, "raise your hand if you trust him."
No one moved.
"Yeah. Me neither."
The guy finally looked up from his phone, his gaze sweeping over Annabelle's friends with a warmth that felt almost tangible. He offered a slow, easy smile—one that seemed to light up the entire ward, making the flickering fluorescent bulbs suddenly feel like stage lights.
He tucked his hands in his pockets and, with a tilt of his head, addressed the group, "You know, it's not really a good thing to stare. Haven't you heard? It's contagious."
His voice rolled out, velvet-smooth and rich, with just the right hint of mischief. It wasn't just a sound—it was an experience. For a split second, time in the ward seemed to pause, the world holding its breath just to listen. Even the ever-beeping monitors seemed to hush, as if they, too, were waiting for him to say something else.
Riley's mouth opened, then closed again. Priya blinked, utterly speechless. Emma clutched Ben's arm, and Ben, for once in his life, had absolutely nothing to say. Around them, nurses who had been bustling about suddenly slowed, their faces softening, as if the air itself had turned to honey.
It was as if his presence had dialed the hospital's mood from "Monday morning" to "Friday at sunset." For a moment, everyone forgot about the stress and the worry, the pain and the paperwork. The world just felt… better.
Before anyone could muster the courage to ask who he actually was, Dr. Abrams approached, clutching a clipboard and wearing the kind of dazed, delighted smile usually reserved for lottery winners and people who've just discovered puppies exist. She cleared her throat, but her voice came out suspiciously high-pitched.
"We've, um, completed all the paperwork, and Annabelle is ready for discharge. She'll need plenty of rest, of course, and to avoid any strenuous activity for the next week or so. But, ah, miraculously, she doesn't have any broken bones or major injuries—her CT and MRI scans are clear, and her vitals are stable. It's really quite…remarkable."
She giggled. Dr. Abrams. Giggled.
The guy's smile was gentle, reassuring, and somehow made the whole ward seem to breathe a little easier. "Thank you, Doctor. Now that I'm here, I'll take care of her. You don't need to worry."
He might as well have recited poetry; the way he spoke, everyone within earshot seemed to melt a little, like butter on warm toast.
But Annabelle's friends weren't ready to let this go. Priya stepped forward, arms crossed. "Wait, wait, wait. Last night, you called us, Dr. Abrams—said Anna was in serious trouble, that you'd have to run a full battery of neurodivergent tests, maybe even keep her for observation. And now, suddenly, you're just… letting her go? With him?" She pointed, as if the guy might suddenly sprout wings or vanish in a swirl of sparkles.
Riley chimed in, "And what about the cost? You said the insurance wouldn't cover everything, and Anna's workplace was still sorting it out—"
Dr. Abrams waved a hand, dreamy-eyed. "Oh, that's all sorted. He's already provided the hospital with all the necessary information. And as I said, Anna's scans are clear—no fractures, no internal bleeding, no neurological deficits. She's a little shaken, but that's perfectly normal after a trauma. Honestly, it's a medical marvel. I wish all my patients recovered so quickly. She is normal"
Ben squinted. "Normal? Last night you sounded like you were about to call in a priest."
Dr. Abrams giggled—a sound so out of place that the group exchanged looks. "Well, yes, but after reviewing her scans this morning, there's no sign of concussion, no broken bones, no neurological deficits. Her vitals are stable, her reflexes are normal, and she's showing remarkable recovery. Honestly, it's a medical marvel. She just needs rest."
Priya, not to be deterred, pressed, "But—are you sure? What about the trauma? The stress? The—"
At that moment, the guy stood up, moving with a kind of lazy grace that made even the squeaky linoleum seem elegant. He smiled, and the world seemed to hush. "Now I am here," he said, voice low and warm, "and she will be all right. I take full responsibility for her."
The effect was instant. Priya's protest died on her lips. Riley, who'd been ready to launch into a speech about patient advocacy, suddenly forgot what words were. Even Ben, who could argue with a wall, just nodded along, entranced.
Emma sighed dreamily, "I think I'd let him take responsibility for my taxes, too."
Dr. Abrams beamed, handing over the discharge papers as if she were presenting a Nobel Prize. "Wonderful! If you need anything, anything at all, just let us know."
As the guy led the way, the friends followed, still in a daze, their worries about costs, compensation, and medical protocols dissolving into the background. The hospital, for once, felt like the safest, happiest place on earth.
And somewhere, deep down, they all wondered if they'd just been hypnotized by the world's most beautiful man—or if, perhaps, they just didn't care
Just so you all know," Priya started, voice low, "I'm not letting Anna get whisked away by a guy in a beach shirt, no matter how good his collarbones are, unless someone explains the hospital bill."
Riley nodded, "And what about the compensation? Anna was supposed to get a payout after the accident. Last night, Dr. Abrams was practically foaming at the mouth about insurance forms."
Emma, still half-dazed, added, "And now she's just… smiling?"
As if on cue, Dr. Abrams stopped in front of them, her eyes a little too bright. "Oh, you don't have to worry about any of that! Anna's workplace has already confirmed they'll handle all the costs—hospitalization, tests, everything. The compensation paperwork is being processed, and the hospital's legal team is satisfied. It's all very normal."
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Annabelle sat upright on the hospital bed, arms wrapped around her knees, staring at the sterile white wall as if it might blink first. Sleep was out of the question.
she didn't dare close her eyes, not after what she'd seen. The memory of the haunted corridor lingered: cold, echoing, filled with desperate, grasping souls that had clawed at her spirit, their whispers like icy fingers around her heart. She could still feel the chill, the panic, the way her own scream had sounded so small against the darkness.
And then, the impossible—he had appeared. The beautiful stranger, radiating warmth and light, had pulled her from the nightmare. But even now, Anna wasn't sure what was real. Her body ached in places that felt like old bruises, but the pain was fading, replaced by a strange, shimmering energy. She remembered the way her eyes had started to gleam—right there, in the presence of her soul, as if some hidden light had been switched on inside her.
She'd overheard the nurses—giddy, almost giggling—talking about her discharge. It didn't make sense. Last night, she'd been a medical mystery, a "neuropsychiatric concern," and now she was apparently fit as a fiddle. Anna pressed her palm to her chest, half-expecting to feel the ache of bruises and broken bones, but there was only a faint soreness, as if her body had already forgotten the trauma.
Her mind spun with questions. Why had her eyes glowed? What was happening to her? And who—what—was the beautiful stranger who'd appeared at her darkest hour?
As if summoned by her thoughts, the door swung open. In strode the guy , dressed in a riot of black-and-cream patterns, headband perched in his tousled hair, collarbone catching the light like a secret. For a moment, Anna forgot to breathe. She felt a strange tingling behind her eyes, a shimmer, as if her soul itself was sparkling in his presence.
Behind him, her friends stood in a loose, enchanted cluster. Their expressions were priceless.
Riley looked at the guy like she'd believe him if he told her the moon was actually a giant firecracker. Her jaw hung open, eyes wide with the kind of awe usually reserved for meteor showers or surprise puppies.
Priya's eyebrows were so high they threatened to disappear into her hairline, her mouth working silently as if trying to form words and failing utterly.
Ben, usually the group's skeptic, was blinking so rapidly it looked like he was trying to send Morse code for "help, I'm under a spell."
Emma was clutching her phone to her chest, cheeks flushed, and wearing the soft, dreamy smile of someone who'd just seen a unicorn and was still processing the implications.
Anna's gaze darted from her friends to the guy and back, her mind a tangle of confusion and concern. She managed a wary, "Um… hi?"
The guy smiled, and the room seemed to tilt toward him, every shadow brightening. "Hello, Annabelle." His voice was a melody, warm and rich, and Anna's eyes sparkled a little brighter.
The guy seemed to sense her unease; he glanced at her, then at the group, and said, "Maybe I should tone it down a bit." He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, Anna saw his irises shift from a deep, mysterious shade to a clear, calming blue. Instantly, the air in the room felt lighter, the group's trance broken.
The friends, finally regaining their wits, burst into a chorus of anxious, rambling complaints.
"Anna, do you know they're just letting you go?" Riley blurted. "Last night, they were ready to call in a priest and a lawyer and maybe a ghostbuster, and now they're like, 'Sure, take her home, no big deal!'"
Priya added, "And this guy—no offense—just strolls in, hands over some paperwork, and suddenly he owns the hospital. Are we in a movie? Did we get pranked?"
Ben chimed in, "Seriously, Anna, I'm not saying he's an alien, but if he starts levitating, I'm out."
Emma nodded. "He could tell me the vending machine dispenses diamonds and I'd believe him."
The guy raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You know, it's generally considered bad manners to discuss someone quite so loudly when they're standing right here. Just a tip."
Riley, still in awe, muttered, "Sorry, it's just… you're a lot to process."
Anna watched, bemused, as her friends rambled on, the tension slowly giving way to laughter and disbelief. The guy's presence seemed to have dialed down from "full-on hypnosis" to "dangerously charming," and the group was finally able to speak without turning into statues.
Riley blinked, trying to take in the weird glowing eyes of Anna " Anna, are you sure you're okay? You look… sparkly."
Anna managed a shaky laugh. "I'm fine, I think. But I don't understand any of this. Last night I could barely move, and now I feel… almost normal. Except for the weird sparkly eyes thing and the fact that apparently, I'm being discharged by a part-time magician."
Priya nodded. "And what about the hospital bills? The compensation? The doctor was ready to run every test in the book, and now it's all just… gone?"
The guy smiled, spreading his hands. "I promise, I'll explain everything. But not here. Hospitals have a way of… listening in. Right now, what matters is getting somewhere safe. Anna's home would be best. Once we're there, you'll get all your answers."
Ben crossed his arms, trying to look tough. "And what if you're, I dunno, a kidnapper? I know some defensive moves."
Riley added, "Yeah, we're not just going to let you whisk her away. Unless you say something and we all go googly-eyed again."
The guy laughed, a sound that seemed to brighten the whole room. "No need for heroics. But just so you know, when we leave this room, I'll have to put the charm back on. It keeps us safe. You might feel a little… dazzled. Try to stay focused."
He gestured to the door. "Let's go. Anna, you're ready."
Anna swallowed, glancing from her friends to Micah, a knot forming in her stomach. He was beautiful, yes, but also… an enigma. A mystery wrapped in a patterned shirt and a promise of answers she wasn't sure she wanted to hear. Should she trust him? Should she follow him?
And yet… he'd saved her. Pulled her back from whatever darkness had waited on the other side. And this time, unlike every warning bell screaming in her head, the quiet voice in her heart whispered: It's okay. This feels right.
And suddenly Anna found her voice. "Wait! What's your name? You haven't told me your name."
The guy paused, turning back with a smile so radiant it seemed to banish every shadow from the room. For a moment, time itself seemed to sigh.
He looked at her, his eyes swirling with that impossible blue, and said softly, "It's Micah."
His name hung in the air, a melody both new and strangely familiar. Anna felt a tremor behind her eyes, as if some hidden part of her recognized him, knew him
For a heartbeat, the world was poetry—
A name, a smile, and the promise of answers just beyond the next door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The hospital called it a miracle.
Her friends called it suspicious.
He walked in like a dream—too calm, too charming, too perfect.
Reality bent around him, paperwork vanished, and somehow... so did the pain.
But Annabelle remembers the dark.
And the boy who pulled her from it.
His name is Micah.
And nothing will ever be the same.
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[To be continued]
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- Signing off ;)💋🧿🩷