Tristan Davis couldn't help but look smug after gaining even the smallest advantage. A faint, satisfied smile tugged at his lips before he forced it down, lowering his voice for emphasis. "You lied to me. That's why I left."

Emily Blair frowned in confusion. "Lied about what?"

He leaned in, eyes fixed on hers. "You promised me you'd keep your distance from Andrew Lane. I took you at your word."

She raised a brow, unbothered. "Fine. Next time, I'll steer clear of him."

His tone dropped an octave, almost threatening. "There won't be a next time."

It wasn't much of a threat, really. Considering he'd stayed by her side at the hospital for three days, she supposed he deserved some reassurance.

Emily nodded. "Alright. I get it."

He gave a self-satisfied grunt, crossing his legs with newfound confidence. Then, with a conspiratorial air, he reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out something oval-shaped.

She'd noticed the bulge in his pocket earlier, but hadn't asked. Now, as he revealed it, she saw it was an aromatherapy candle.

Tristan dangled the candle in front of her, a little triumphant.

It wasn't like the decorative candles you'd find in boutique shops-those were always colorful, adorned with dried flowers or bits of citrus for aesthetic appeal. This one was simple, a deep brown with no embellishments at all.

Emily caught a faint scent and wrinkled her nose, curiosity piqued. “Is that...herbal?”

He grinned, setting the candle on her nightstand. Fishing out a lighter, he lit the small wick.

Within seconds, the herbal scent-earthy and calming-grew stronger.

"It's a calming candle," Tristan explained. "I found a holistic healer and asked them for something to help you sleep, based on what you've been going through. It's supposed to relax you without messing with your health. With this, you'll finally get some real rest."

Emily blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. "I just had a nightmare... When did you even get this?"

His smile widened, just a touch smug. "What can I say, Emily? Great minds think alike."

He added, "I paid extra to skip the line this morning. Picked it up this afternoon."

As they talked, the fragrance thickened in the air, somehow comforting rather than overwhelming. The tension in her body, wound tight by dreams she'd rather forget, began to loosen. She could almost feel herself breathing easier.

Tristan leaned in, his voice low and teasing. "So? Isn't this perfect timing-the moment you're falling asleep, I show up with just the thing you need?"

Emily opened her mouth, then closed it again, finally managing, "Thank you."

He frowned, dissatisfied. "Don't thank me. I didn't do it for thanks."

She glanced at the candle, watching the flame dance, lips pressed together.

Suddenly Tristan stood and moved to sit on the edge of her bed, close enough that she instinctively shrank back. "What are you doing?"

He turned, meeting her gaze. "Come on, tell me. What was the nightmare about? Maybe I can talk you through it."

Emily's hands, hidden beneath the blanket, tightened around the sheets. She didn't really want to talk about it, so she kept it vague. “It was about the accident."

She stared at her lap, and suddenly felt a gentle pressure at the back of her head. Tristan's hand ruffled her hair, his voice soft at her ear. "It's over now."

She gave a quiet, almost inaudible, "Yeah."

But only Emily knew the truth: the accident wasn't over. The crash that had stolen

her daughter's life clung to her like a relentless rain, leaving her whole world soaked in sorrow.