ROLAND’S POV
Roland arrived at the hospital with a calm demeanor, though his mind churned with plans he didn’t dare share with anyone else.
In his hands, he carried a neatly wrapped container, its warm contents hinting at the effort he’d gone through to prepare it.
The enticing aroma of roasted herbs and spices wafted through the sterile hospital corridor, drawing curious glances from passing nurses and visitors.
His expression was one of purpose, masked in polite charm, as he stepped into Sasha’s father’s hospital room.
The soft hum of machines filled the air, punctuated only by the occasional shuffle of feet outside the room.
Sasha’s father, pale but alert, lay propped up in bed, his thinning hair slightly disheveled but his sharp eyes giving nothing away.
The older man looked up as Roland entered, his gaze flickering between the younger man and the food in his hands.
“Roland,” Sasha’s father said, his voice carrying the gruff undertone of someone not easily impressed. “What’s that you’ve got there?”
Roland smiled, offering just the right mix of confidence and humility. “Good evening, sir.”
“I thought you might be tired of the hospital food, so I prepared something special. Sneaked it out of the diner just for you.”
He placed the container on the tray table with a flourish, stepping back as though he were presenting a masterpiece.
Sasha’s father raised an eyebrow but said nothing at first, letting the silence linger just long enough to make Roland shift slightly. Then, with a small nod, he reached for the container.
The aroma grew stronger as he opened the lid, revealing a perfectly cooked meal: tender grilled chicken, seasoned vegetables, and a side of creamy mashed potatoes that looked as though they belonged in a high-end restaurant rather than a hospital room.
“Well,” Sasha’s father said, breaking the silence, “this certainly beats the gray mystery meat they’ve been serving me.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Roland replied smoothly, though his chest swelled with satisfaction at the older man’s approval.
“I know how important good food is for recovery. Thought it’d help boost your spirits.”
As Sasha’s father took a careful bite, his face softened, and for the first time, he allowed a genuine smile to break through his otherwise guarded expression.
“This is good. Really good. You made this yourself?”
Roland hesitated for only a fraction of a second, then nodded. “Yes, sir. I wanted to bring something personal-something that showed I care.”
Sasha’s father chewed thoughtfully before setting his fork down and looking Roland squarely in the eye.
“I appreciate the effort. It’s not every day someone goes out of their way like this.”
The words were simple, but Roland took them as a victory. He had spent weeks trying to ingratiate himself with Sasha, and he knew that winning over her father was a crucial step.
The old man’s approval could pave the way for Roland’s deeper involvement in her life-or so he believed.
They continued talking for a few minutes, the conversation polite but not overly warm. Roland made sure to steer clear of any controversial topics, keeping the focus on the food and the elder man’s recovery.
He asked about the doctors’ prognosis, expressed optimism about Sasha’s father being discharged soon, and even threw in a comment about how Sasha’s support must have been a great comfort during this difficult time.
Eventually, Sasha entered the room, her presence immediately shifting the dynamic. Her father brightened, his gaze softening as he looked at his daughter.
Sasha, however, seemed less enthusiastic about Roland’s presence. She acknowledged him with a polite but distant nod before turning her full attention to her father.
“How are you feeling today, Dad?” she asked, her voice warm and filled with genuine concern.
“Better, thanks to Roland here,” her father replied, gesturing toward the half-eaten meal.
“He brought me something decent to eat. About time someone rescued me from the hospital sludge.”
Sasha’s eyes flickered to Roland, her expression unreadable. “That was thoughtful of you,” she said, her tone neutral.
“Anything to help,” Roland replied, his smile unwavering. “Your dad’s a strong man. He’ll be out of here in no time.”
Sasha stayed with her father for another hour, chatting with him about mundane topics and sharing updates about her life. Roland lingered in the background, occasionally chiming in but mostly observing.
He noted how Sasha’s father seemed to relax in her presence, the bond between them evident. It was a closeness Roland envied, though he would never admit it.
As visiting hours drew to a close, Sasha stood and began gathering her things.
“Dad, I’ll come back tomorrow,” she said, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Call me if you need anything.”
Her father nodded. “Drive safe, sweetheart.”
Roland stepped forward, ready to offer his assistance. “I’ll walk you out,” he said, already moving toward the door.
Sasha hesitated but then nodded, clearly unwilling to make a scene in front of her father. Together, they left the room, the door closing softly behind them.
The hallway was quieter now, the earlier bustle of visitors and staff reduced to a trickle. Roland walked beside Sasha, his hands in his pockets, his expression carefully composed.
“Thanks for bringing the food,” Sasha said after a moment, her tone clipped but polite. “I think it really meant a lot to him.”
“I’m glad,” Roland replied, turning to look at her. “Your dad’s a great man. He deserves to feel cared for.”
Sasha nodded but didn’t respond. They continued walking in silence until they reached the hospital’s main entrance.
The cool evening air greeted them as they stepped outside, the city’s lights twinkling in the distance.
“I can take you home,” Roland offered, his voice smooth but insistent. “It’s late, and I’d feel better knowing you got there safely.”
“I’ll be fine,” Sasha replied, her tone firm. “Thank you, but I don’t need a ride.”
Roland frowned, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “Sasha, it’s not a problem. I-”
“I said I’ll be fine,” she interrupted, her gaze steady. “Really, Roland. You don’t need to go out of your way.”
For a moment, he considered pressing the issue, but the look in her eyes stopped him.
She wasn’t just dismissing his offer-she was drawing a boundary, one he knew better than to push too hard in public.
“Alright,” he said finally, forcing a smile. “If you’re sure.”
“I am. Goodnight, Roland.”
With that, Sasha turned and walked toward her car, her figure illuminated by the glow of the hospital’s exterior lights. Roland watched her go, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
The polite mask he had worn all evening slipped, replaced by an expression of simmering anger.
He waited until Sasha was out of sight before pulling his phone from his pocket. His fingers moved quickly over the screen as he placed a call.
“It’s me,” he said when the line connected. His voice was low, laced with restrained fury. “There’s been a change of plans.”
The person on the other end said something in response, their tone questioning. Roland’s jaw tightened as he listened, his eyes narrowing.
“I don’t care,” he snapped. “Just make it happen. I want her out of the picture as soon as possible.”
The voice on the other end hesitated, clearly uncertain about the sudden shift in strategy. Roland’s patience wore thin.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he said coldly. “Do it. Tonight.”
He ended the call without waiting for a response, his hand trembling slightly as he shoved the phone back into his pocket.
For a moment, he stood there, staring into the distance as if trying to rein in his emotions.
Then, with a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders and turned, walking away from the hospital with a determined stride.
In his mind, the plan was already unfolding. Sasha’s defiance had pushed him too far, and now, he would ensure that she understood the consequences of crossing him.