Chapter 301: Willingly Enduring the Cold All Night
Wren Sutton stared at the two bank transfers, their meanings painfully clear, and a tremor ran through her heart.
1314520, 5201314. The two strings of numbers were unadorned, yet they held Adrian Lancaster’s clumsy but overwhelming affection, weighing heavily on her heart.
Wren didn’t accept the transfers, nor did she reply to any messages. She simply placed her phone face down on the pillow beside her and forced herself to close her eyes and rest.
In the dead of night, the wind suddenly picked up outside.
It was late autumn, and the midnight chill was bone-piercing.
The cold wind swept up withered yellow plane tree leaves, howling across the vast, silent hospital grounds. It pattered against the glass, the soft, dull sound especially clear in the quiet hospital room.
Wren Sutton, a light sleeper to begin with, was startled awake by the sound.
Afraid of disturbing Isla Griffith, who was sleeping soundly in the other hospital bed, she quieted her breathing. Carefully, she lifted the thin blanket, got out of bed, and picked up the knitted cardigan draped at the foot of the bed. She slipped it on and walked softly to the window.
The late autumn night was frigid, the wind cold and biting.
Wren was worried that Isla’s weak constitution couldn’t handle the chill, so she reached out to check if the window was shut tight, hoping to block out the draft completely.
Just as her fingertips touched the cold window frame, as she prepared to latch the slightly ajar window, her gaze subconsciously drifted downstairs.
By now, the hospital had fallen into a dead silence. The surroundings were pitch-dark, save for a few dim, lonely streetlights standing forlornly below. They cast cold, faint halos that left the ground a patchwork of light and shadow.
The cold wind sent fallen leaves swirling helplessly across the ground, lifting them only to let them fall again, adding to the bleak desolation of the late autumn scene.
In the middle of a dim, soft halo of light, a black sedan was parked.
Its understated body, sleek lines, the familiar shape of its headlights, and even the license plate number she had seen countless times—a number etched into her very heart—all silently announced its owner.
Wren’s hand, about to latch the window, froze in mid-air. She stood as if petrified, an expression of disbelief washing over her face. For a second, she wondered if she was still half-asleep, just imagining things.
’That’s Adrian Lancaster’s car!’
’At this hour, he should be at home watching over a sleeping Owen and Nina. Why would he suddenly be here, outside the hospital?’
’Did he drive here after putting the kids to bed?’
’Why would he do that?’
A thousand questions exploded in her mind. Wren stood frozen to the spot, acutely aware of her own heart thumping wildly. It beat faster and faster, spiraling out of control, threatening to burst from her chest.
Downstairs.
The driver’s side window was half-open, allowing the cold wind to pour relentlessly into the car. It ruffled the hair on Adrian’s forehead and scattered the last bit of warmth inside.
Adrian leaned back against the seat, perfectly still. He wasn’t on his phone, he wasn’t smoking—he was just sitting there, quietly.
Tonight was the first time he had ever left Owen and Nina with the housekeeper after they’d just fallen asleep. As soon as they were settled, he had driven straight to the hospital.
He didn’t go upstairs and knock. He didn’t call or send a text. He did nothing that might disturb Wren, not even letting her know he was here.
He simply parked downstairs, sitting in the bone-chilling late autumn wind, doing nothing and saying nothing.
’He just wanted to be closer to her. A little closer.’
Outside, the autumn wind still howled in the night, sending leaves rustling.
The dim yellow streetlight softened as it fell on his well-defined profile, clearly illuminating the deep-seated exhaustion, longing, and restraint in his eyes.
Just as Wren’s heart churned and her gaze remained locked on the car below, Adrian, as if by telepathy, slowly raised his head and looked toward her window.
The dim streetlight pierced the late autumn darkness, perfectly illuminating the slender figure standing in the window.
Their eyes met.
Wren’s breath hitched, and her heart seemed to skip a beat.
She stood frozen by the window, fingertips still pressed against the cold glass. Her unblinking gaze was fixed on the man below who had just looked up, and she found she couldn’t look away.
Adrian’s pupils contracted. A spark of disbelief ignited in his tired, listless eyes, instantly replaced by a wave of overwhelming tenderness.
’He hadn’t expected Wren to be awake, much less standing at the window, looking right at him.’
The next second, Adrian pushed open the car door without a second thought.
The frigid late-autumn wind immediately wrapped around him, tugging at the hem of his coat, but he seemed oblivious. He strode to the front of the car and stopped, his gaze locked on Wren, never wavering for an instant.
He raised his phone and called her.
In the hospital room, the phone suddenly lit up the darkness, vibrating softly.
Wren still stood at the window. So as not to wake Isla, she pressed the answer button and put the phone to her ear, but didn’t say a word.
She just watched Adrian, who stood tall and unwavering in the cold wind below, a storm of complex, unreadable emotions churning in her eyes.
The moment the call connected, Adrian’s voice—filled with undisguised urgency, heartache, and panic—came through the receiver and landed clearly in Wren’s ear.
"Why are you still up so late? Did the wind wake you? You’re standing by the window—put on something warmer. Don’t catch a cold."
His voice wasn’t loud, but it couldn’t hide the worry that tumbled out of him. Against the cold late-autumn wind, it sounded exceptionally warm and sincere.
Wren held the phone, looking at the man below. Instead of answering, she asked a question of her own.
"Adrian, it’s so late. Why aren’t you at home? What are you doing here at the hospital?"
The night wind swirled fallen leaves between them, a silent dance in the space their gazes crossed.
Adrian’s throat worked. He had no intention of hiding the truth.
He told Wren honestly.
"You’re not home. I can’t sleep."
"I put Owen and Nina to bed, but as soon as I close my eyes, all I can think about is you."
"I didn’t dare come up and disturb you, and I couldn’t bring myself to text you that I was here."
"Honey, I just wanted to be closer to you. As long as I can be a little closer, I’m willing to stand out here in the wind all night."