I reluctantly looked at Oliver, whispering, "Mr. Oliver, why don't you go home to avoid agitating her again when she wakes up? Her recovery is the most important."

Before potentially hurting him, I added, "Let's take things slowly. Give her some time to think things through.”

Oliver stood motionless, gazing at the sleeping Lauren for a long time. Finally, he said to me reluctantly, "Thank you for your effort."

"This is what I should do," I replied lightly. "Give her some time. Perhaps she needs time to heal."

When I mentioned healing, Oliver understood what I was referring to. It was a wound in Lauren's heart. From her behavior today, I knew that the wound hadn't healed. At the slightest touch, it would still bleed.

Oliver stepped back, but his eyes were unwilling to leave Lauren's face. I didn't know what kind of storm might be raging beneath his calm exterior.

Lauren's words had reflected her inner thoughts, pointing at Oliver's vulnerability. Only he knew how much pain he was