Stage Three

Hades noticed the subtle shift in Sophia's demeanor the moment she mentioned the hospital.

The slight tremble in her hands, the way she fiddled with the hem of her skirt, and the distant look in her eyes—something was clearly bothering her.

As they drove through the quiet streets, he could sense her anxiety growing.

Without a word, Hades took his hand off the gearshift and reached over, gently placing his hand over hers.

Sophia flinched at first, surprised by the contact, but his touch wasn't demanding. It was... comforting.

He didn't say anything, and neither did she.

His hand remained steady, offering silent support as her fingers eventually relaxed beneath his.

The rest of the drive was quiet, the tension between them shifting into something more subdued.

When they finally pulled up in front of LK Hospital, Sophia hesitated for a moment before opening the door.

"I... I'll be fine," she muttered, but Hades didn't move to leave.

He turned off the engine and got out, following her toward the entrance.

Sophia shot him a look. "You don't have to come inside."

Hades shrugged, his expression neutral. "I want to."

Inwardly, he questioned why he was even following her. It wasn't like him to stick around for things that didn't directly concern him. But the pull was undeniable, and as much as he tried to blame it on the mate bond, there was a deeper reason he refused to acknowledge.

Sophia led him through the hospital's dimly lit corridors, her footsteps growing heavier with each step.

As they reached the ICU, Hades noticed her pace slow, her shoulders tense.

When they approached one of the rooms, Hades peered inside and froze.

A frail woman lay in the hospital bed, hooked up to numerous machines.

Her breathing was shallow, the beeping monitors surrounding her the only indication that she was still alive.

The resemblance between the woman and Sophia was striking—the same delicate features, the same brown hair, though streaked with silver.

This was her mother.

Sophia stepped forward, her voice soft, almost a whisper. "That's my mother."

Hades blinked, his initial surprise quickly morphing into something else—guilt. He had known her mother was sick, but he never realized it was this serious.

"Seven months in the hospital... stage 3 lung cancer... affecting her spine," Sophia explained.

Hades swallowed hard, feeling an unfamiliar weight settle in his chest.

"You never told me," he murmured, his voice low, almost reproachful, though he had no right to feel that way.

Sophia didn't meet his eyes. "It's not something I talk about. I didn't want... anyone's pity."

Her voice trembled, and Hades could see the exhaustion in her eyes—the kind that comes from watching someone you love slowly wither away.

As they stood in silence, Hades's gaze shifted from Sophia to her mother, whose frail form seemed so small against the backdrop of machines and tubes.

He felt a pang of sympathy.

He knew what it was like to see someone you care about fighting a losing battle, but this... this was different. This wasn't a fight he could control or influence.

Sophia's voice broke through his thoughts, trembling with fear. "They're giving her the best treatment, but... it's not enough. I'm scared, Hades." She looked at her mother with tear-filled eyes. "She could die at any time."

Hades felt a wave of pity for her—a deep, genuine sadness that gnawed at him.

It all made sense now. The long hours, the exhaustion, the bills that never seemed to end. She wasn't just living for herself; she was fighting for her mother's life, paying whatever it took to keep her alive.

Sophia didn't notice when the first tear slipped down her cheek, but Hades did.

She stood there, trembling, lost in memories of a time when her mother was healthy, when life wasn't consumed by the endless fear of losing her.

Without thinking, Hades stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.

She didn't resist, letting herself fall against his chest as she quietly sobbed.

His hand gently stroked her back, trying to offer comfort in the only way he knew how.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered, though even he wasn't sure if that was true. But for now, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she wasn't facing this alone.

For a moment, they stood there in the quiet hospital room, Hades holding Sophia as she cried, the sound of beeping machines filling the empty space around them.

Inwardly, Hades cursed himself. Why had he followed her? Why did he care so much? He could blame the mate bond all he wanted, but the truth was, seeing her like this hurt him more than he expected.

He had never imagined Sophia—the strong, determined woman she presented to the world—could break so easily. And that vulnerability stirred something deep within him, something he wasn't ready to confront.

After a while, Sophia pulled back, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "Sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed by her breakdown.

Hades shook his head. "You don't have to apologize."

She managed a weak smile, but her eyes remained distant, locked on her mother. "I just... I wish I could do more."

Hades nodded, understanding the feeling all too well. "You're doing everything you can."

Sophia glanced up at him, searching his face for any sign of judgment, but there was none. Only a quiet understanding.

"I'll leave you alone with her," Hades said softly.

He turned to leave, but she caught his arm.

"Thank you," Sophia said quietly, her voice soft. "For the ride, for the interview, for… everything."

Hades glanced at her, his expression neutral, though something flickered in his eyes. "It's fine," he said, his tone steady.

He stepped back slightly as he slid his hands into his pockets. "You don't have to thank me."

For a moment, they stood there, the weight of the conversation and the emotions of the moment hanging in the air between them.

The sterile scent of the hospital and the rhythmic beeping of machines in the background felt distant as they shared a brief silence.

Sophia nodded, her eyes grateful yet distant. "I just... needed someone tonight. I didn't expect it to be you."

Hades exhaled slowly, not quite sure what to say. He was never one for emotional moments like these.

"Take care," he said finally, his voice softer than before. "I'm sure your mother is getting the best care possible."

With that, he turned and walked out of the ICU, his footsteps echoing lightly down the empty hallway.

Sophia watched him go, her heart a little lighter, though the anxiety of her mother's condition still weighed heavily on her.

As Hades disappeared around the corner, a faint rustling caught her attention.

She turned slightly, but before she could investigate, the ICU door closed with a soft click, leaving her alone with her mother.

Unbeknownst to her, a man wearing a face cap and nose mask had been watching them through the slightly ajar door.

His eyes glinted with satisfaction as he glanced down at the camera in his hand.

He smirked, swiping through the photos he had just taken.

In the dim glow of the hospital corridor, he reviewed the images—Hades hugging Sophia, his hand gently stroking her back.

The tenderness of the moment was evident, but with the right edits, it would look far more intimate than it really was.

The man's fingers tapped on the screen, zooming in on specific details, mentally crafting the narrative he intended to create.

"Perfect," he thought, satisfied with his work. This would serve his plan well.

With one final glance at the ICU door, he pocketed the camera and walked away, the shadows swallowing him as he disappeared into the depths of the hospital.