"The Fluttering Heartbeat: When He Makes Her Nervous"

"She's alright for now, but she needs to be taken care of," the doctor assured Porsche, whose body tensed with worry for Anna.

The doctor continued, "She is suffering from PTSD." Porsche's eyes widened as he glanced at Anna from the doorway, engrossed in the conversation with the doctor.

Concern etched on his face, Porsche asked, "The cold sweats and shivers, was it because of that?"

The doctor nodded, explaining, "Yes, and it might worsen if she doesn't take the prescribed pills. She must have experienced many traumatic events."

Porsche, feeling the weight of Anna's struggles, took heavy breaths. With tears in his eyes, he looked at the doctor and whispered, "Will she be alright?"

The doctor, patting Porsche's shoulder reassuringly, added, "Yes, of course. She'll be fine real quick if she is taken care of." The words provided a glimmer of hope, and Porsche clung to the assurance that with proper care, Anna could overcome the challenges ahead.

After the conversation with the doctor, Porsche wiped away his tears and let out a heavy sigh, the worry for Anna still lingering. As he entered the hospital room where Anna lay, he approached her with measured steps, finding her with closed eyes.

Porsche gazed at her with a mix of admiration and concern. Slowly, he reached for her hand, holding it gently in his own. His eyes, filled with sorrow, conveyed the depth of his emotions.

In a soft, introspective whisper, he uttered, "I wish I was there with you at every traumatic event you experienced." His voice carried the weight of regret. He continued, "I wish I had protected you." Tears welled up in his eyes as he kept a watchful gaze on her, his heart heavy with the longing to undo the pain that life had dealt Anna.

As Porsche's eyes met Anna's, he realized she was already awake and watching him. Quickly closing the distance, he asked with genuine concern, "Are you okay, Anna?"

Anna nodded, managing a smile despite her struggle. She inquired softly, "Why are you crying?"

Porsche wiped away his tears and, deciding to sit beside her, brought a chair closer to Anna's bed. Holding her hand gently, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me what you were going through?" His voice carried a mix of worry and a longing for understanding, as he sought to bridge the gap that had unknowingly grown between them.

Anna remained silent, and Porsche, sensing the need for answers, moved closer. "When did you start having these attacks?" he inquired, his concern evident.

Anna, attempting to reassure him, softly muttered, "Porsche, don't worry. I am fine now."

However, Porsche, leaning in closer, raised his voice, a mix of concern and anger in his tone. "Tell me, when did it start happening?"

Avoiding direct eye contact, Anna admitted, "After that day—the day I was held hostage, the day you had the accident."

Porsche's eyes filled with tears, unable to find words as he grappled with the weight of Anna's revelation.

In an attempt to control his emotions, he withdrew Anna's hands and swiftly exited the room.

Anna, left alone, stared at the doorway through which Porsche had left, a complex array of emotions lingering in the silence.

As Porsche walked out of the hospital, his internal struggle with emotions intensified.

Despite his attempts to stay composed, Anna's words echoed relentlessly in his mind.

Deep within, he grappled with self-blame, a heavy weight on his shoulders for not being there for Anna when she needed him the most.

The guilt gnawed at him as he navigated the tumultuous sea of emotions, seeking a way to reconcile with the pain that had unfolded in Anna's life.

As Porsche reached the parking lot, a call came in from Ken.

On the other end, Ken began, "Hey, Porsche. I need to share something with you. Taylor just spoke to me and conveyed that Anna is grappling with PTSD. Although she was prescribed medication, she chose to discard the pills."

Porsche, maintaining a stern expression, replied, "I'm already aware of that."

Ken continued, "Since her departure from Banff, she hasn't been doing well. Despite what she might say, she's not okay."

With a deepening worry etched on his face, Porsche nodded. Seeking more information, he questioned, "When will you and the others be arriving? Anna could use the support of good friends right now."

Ken responded, "Wennes and Taylor have already arrived, and we'll be there by evening."

At the mention of Taylor's name, Porsche's focus wavered, and he, slightly distracted, ended the call.

The concern for Anna weighed heavily on him as he grappled with the challenges she faced.

Porsche decided to head to the nearby market to procure some food for Anna.

As he navigated the market aisles, his thoughts remained entangled with concerns for her well-being.

Upon his return to the hospital, he swiftly entered Anna's room.

His focus shifted directly to the medication, prompting Anna to cast a worried glance at him.

Puzzled by his urgency and the palpable frustration on his face, she couldn't help but wonder what had stirred such emotions in Porsche.

In a quick and determined manner, Porsche poured water into a glass and retrieved some pills, offering them to Anna.

Reluctantly, she accepted, but as she attempted to swallow, the pills spilled out, accompanied by a splash of water onto her clothes, causing her to cough.

Witnessing this, Porsche's worry intensified.

He immediately assisted Anna in cleaning both her clothes and the bed.

Anna, feeling a bit embarrassed, hastened to clean her face with a tissue, a mix of discomfort and gratitude in her expression for Porsche's care.

Porsche deftly maneuvered the chair closer and settled into it.

Leaning in, he inquired with a stern gaze, "What seems to be the issue with the pills?" His expression conveyed a determined concern.

Anna, feeling a hint of nervousness, averted her gaze, replying, "Nothing, they just spilled."

Porsche, gently but persistently, moved her face back towards him. "What is it, Anna?" he pressed.

Fighting a sense of embarrassment, Anna looked down and confessed, "I can't take pills. I don't like them.Swallowing them is a challenge for me. It takes hours for me to manage my medicines."

She averted her eyes as she shared this personal struggle.

Porsche's smile persisted as he gently inquired, "Is that the reason you discarded the prescribed pills from your former doctor?"

Anna, taken aback, stared at Porsche, questioning, "Wh-who told you that?"

Porsche, with a discerning gaze, tilted his head and revealed, "Taylor shared it with Ken. I'm disappointed to learn about you through others.

It pains me when others are more aware of your struggles than I am. I wasn't even aware of what you were going through."

Feeling a sense of vulnerability, Anna looked down and explained, "I collapsed once in Taylor's presence, and he took me to the doctor. That's where he learned about it."

Porsche sighed, then walked towards the side table, retrieving cupcakes he had bought for Anna.

With cupcakes in hand, Porsche offered, "Anna, I'll assist you in taking your medication, alright?" Anna, silent and visibly nervous, gazed at him.

Porsche, leaning in, sought an answer, repeating, "Okay?"

In that moment, Porsche found himself captivated by Anna's innocent gaze—her round, bambi-like eyes, her dark hair framing her face in an enchanting way.

He examined her features, her small face emanating innocence, making Porsche's admiration evident.

As Porsche continued to gaze at her, Anna, growing more uneasy, looked away and stammered, "Um, yea- okay."

The tension lingered between them until an unexpected knock on the door disrupted the moment.