“Would you like some soup now?” Katelyn asked, her voice gentle as she opened the thermos. “I’ll get you a bowl.”

The lid popped off with a hiss, releasing the rich aroma of the soup that filled the sterile hospital room. She ladled the steaming broth into a bowl, her movements calm and precise.

The man on the bed suddenly turned to face her, his gaze piercing and intense.

“You still care about me, don’t you?” he asked.

The voice was unmistakably not Vincent’s. Katelyn’s eyes widened, confusion and wariness crossing her face as she looked at Neil.

“Why are you here? Where’s Vincent?” she demanded.

Neil’s smile disappeared instantly. He shifted to sit up, leaning against the headboard as he watched her intently.

“How am I supposed to know?” he replied. “What’s clear is that you wouldn’t have come here with soup if you didn’t still care. You rushed over the moment you heard about my car accident.”

A subtle hint of satisfaction crept into his voice, an emotion he seemed only half aware of.

He had been in a car accident when running a red light, leading to his unexpected stay in the hospital. He had just come out of his anesthetic fog when he was startled to see Katelyn beside him, holding a steaming bowl of his favorite soup. The sight hit him hard—she still cared. How could she so easily forget the deep connection they once shared?

“It’s been ages since I had your soup,” Neil said, his voice tinged with a mix of longing and nostalgia. “Could you get me some?”

Katelyn’s eyes flashed with sudden coldness. She was sure she was in the right ward, so why was Neil here instead of Vincent?

“I need to know—where is Vincent?” she asked.

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Her icy tone made Neil’s realization hit him like a punch.

“Do you mean to say that Vincent is also here?” he asked, his voice dropping. “That the soup is for him?”

His voice lowered further, a mix of disappointment and anger replacing his usual confidence.

Katelyn’s face hardened with contempt. Could it be? Do you really think I’d bother making soup for someone like you? she snapped.

Neil’s fists clenched as he spoke, his voice heavy with bitterness. You promised you’d only cook for me.

Everything is different now, she replied coldly.

Katelyn’s patience snapped, and a sharp edge crept into her tone. I’m asking you a question—where is Vincent? This is his room, she demanded.

Neil’s face flushed with anger, his teeth grinding. How am I supposed to know? he snapped. Katelyn, you’ve disappointed me. I gave you a chance to come back, and you threw it away.

The affection he once had for her was now directed at Vincent—a thought that made Neil feel as if he were crumbling. He struggled to understand how their relationship had deteriorated so completely. Her declarations of love now felt like cruel deceit.

Katelyn’s gaze hardened, her disdain unmistakable. I’d never have stooped to that, scavenging for trash, she said, her voice dripping with scorn, clearly aimed at Neil and Lise.

Neil’s eyes blazed with cold anger as he pushed aside the blanket and slowly got out of bed. Each step he took toward her was deliberate, his rage palpable in every movement. You’re treating me like this because you’re in love with Vincent, he hissed, his voice a harsh whisper. If he weren’t in the picture, would you still be so cruel?

His eyes spoke volumes of hurt and betrayal, more than his words could convey.

Katelyn stepped back, her face a mask of bitter irony. Even if Vincent weren’t here, I’d never come back to you. The Katelyn you knew is gone, buried by you and Lise. Have you forgotten that?

She picked up the thermos with determination and moved toward the door, intent on finding Vincent. His surgery had ended in the early morning. Surely, he wouldn’t leave without telling anyone, would he? Katelyn was so wrapped up in her anxiety about Vincent that Neil’s troubled face barely registered with her.

Katelyn, you’re the biggest liar ever, Neil said, his voice laden with hurt. I’ve been deceived by you for so long. You want to go find Vincent? Fine. But this soup is mine. Only mine. You’re not giving it to him.

He snatched the thermos from her grasp with a swift, angry motion.

He was determined that no one, especially not Vincent, would take what he considered his alone.

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