He could never quite explain why he'd turned down Emily Blair that day.

Maybe it was because whenever she asked him for something, Emily would look right at him—intently, as if nothing else existed—though her eyes always seemed strangely devoid of emotion.

He'd wanted her to look at him more, to want something from him. That was why he refused her, hoping she'd come back, hoping she'd keep asking.

But she never did. After that one rejection, Emily Blair never reached out to him again.

He'd downloaded the game on a whim. As soon as he opened it, an ad popped up for a new collaboration with a major cinema chain.

So, Emily Blair had found a new, more fitting endorsement deal.

Andrew Lane wasn't sure if he felt relieved or hollow.

With reckless abandon, Andrew threw money into the game, playing until sleep crept over him and he finally set his phone aside.

In the middle of the night, a shrill alarm blared from the monitors tracking Emily Blair's condition.

Tristan Davis had dozed off on a hard hospital bench, only to be jolted awake by the hurried footsteps of doctors and nurses.

He watched as they rushed into Emily's room, his pupils narrowing in sudden fear.

He followed, but stopped at the doorway, not wanting to get in the way—just listening, watching.

"Her heart rate's dropping-"

"Blood pressure's falling too damn it, her heart's stopped!"

"Move her to the OR, now!"

Thud.

Tristan felt as if his own heart had plummeted into a black abyss.

Sweat slicked his palms; his mind went utterly blank, his face ashen. He only managed by instinct to step aside as the doctors wheeled Emily past him, her eyes closed, face utterly drained of life.

Numbly, he thought: If only there was a church here. He'd kneel in front of the altar and pray for her, pray until Emily Blair opened her eyes again, safe and sound.

This would be a sleepless night.

Tristan didn't dare close his eyes, anxiously waiting outside the operating room. Only when he finally saw Emily being wheeled out did he dare to breathe again.

The doctor said, "She's not out of danger yet. But if she wakes up, we can transfer her to a regular room."

Tristan thanked the doctor over and over, barely holding himself together.

When Emily was finally settled in the ICU, Tristan's strength left him. He sank to the floor, covering his face with trembling hands, exhaling sharply.

Emily Blair woke up at dawn.

Her mind drifted slowly back to the surface, sounds muffled and distant, as if reaching her from behind a thick wall.

There were voices, and the sense of people moving around her.

She opened her eyes by degrees, the world coming into focus.

"She's awake! She's awake!"

All Emily could see was the ceiling and, eventually, the vague outline of faces. Struggling, she turned her eyes toward the voices.

Without warning, she found herself staring into a pair of striking, but exhausted, eyes.

Tristan Davis.

Was she imagining things? Why did it seem like his eyes were drowning in sorrow?

She tried to lift her hand, but weakness pinned her down. All she could manage was the faintest twitch of her fingers.

Tristan came over, leaning down so she could see him more clearly. "Emily Blair, you've been asleep for three days," he said softly. "I've been waiting for you for a long time."