**Chapter 6: Did She Hit Him in the Head?** As dawn broke, casting a soft glow through the sterile hospital room, Stanley stirred from an unwelcome slumber that had held him captive for what felt like an eternity. Awakening slowly, a wave of realization washed over him—he was in a hospital bed. The dull throb in his abdomen was a nagging reminder of the precarious situation he had been in. He flexed his hand against the mattress, attempting to rise, but the moment he propped himself up, a sharp, searing pain erupted from his wound, eliciting a low grunt from deep within his chest. That sound pierced the quiet air like a jolt of electricity, rousing Violet, who had been curled up by the bedside. Stirring from her restless sleep, she blinked against the dim light, her eyes meeting his piercing gaze. “You’re awake,” she breathed, a mixture of relief and surprise dancing across her delicate features. Yet, her lips were pale, and the shadows beneath her eyes betrayed the fact that she had spent the night fighting her own fatigue. Stanley’s mind raced through fragmented memories of the previous night, the echoes of chaos and fear surfacing like ghosts. This was the woman who had saved his life—or perhaps the one who had plunged him into this nightmare. He locked eyes with her, his voice steady but solemn. “You saved me. If you need anything, just say the word.” Violet's heart sank at his remarks. She hadn’t expected him to think that, nor did she want to mislead him. “It wasn’t me,” she stammered, catching her breath as anxiety twisted within her. She was keenly aware of the truth; if he unearthed the whole story, she could find herself in a precarious situation. “Last night, I hit you with my car,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, laden with dread. Stanley’s expression remained inscrutable. He studied her with his deep, calm eyes, as if weighing the gravity of her admission against his own emotions. To Violet’s surprise, he didn’t erupt in anger or outrage, but rather appeared unfazed, collecting his thoughts like a master chess player. “I didn’t call the police,” she continued, deciding to delve deeper into the murky waters of their conversation. “I wanted to handle this privately. How much do you think would be appropriate for compensation?” The urgency in her voice stemmed from her desperation; she had plans to escape J City, and the last thing she needed was a drawn-out legal battle looming over her. Stanley’s response was neither fiery nor full of blame. “No need,” he replied, his voice low and edged with fatigue. Just like that, he tossed her a puzzling lifeline. Violet couldn't grasp the meaning behind his nonchalance. Surely, this man must have suffered a blow to the head, there had to be consequences for what she had done. As uncertainty gripped her, she shifted gears, a thought sparking in her mind. “Are you hungry? I’ll get you something to eat,” she offered, determination settling in her chest. Standing swiftly, she left the room to procure a meal, her own hunger for clarity nagging at her. As she strolled through the hospital hallways later that morning, breakfast in hand, an idea struck her. She pulled out her phone and dialed Jessie’s number. The ringing felt eternal, each tone a reminder of the worry that had tethered her all night long. “Hello? Violet, how are things now? How is he?” Jessie’s frantic voice crackled through the receiver, her concern palpable, and it eased some of Violet’s mounting tension. “He’s awake,” Violet replied, stepping into a quieter corner of the corridor. “But there are complications...” Her narrative unfolded delicately, a thread of anxiety stitching itself between her words. As she spoke, the innocent voices of her children floated through the air from the phone. “Don’t be scared, Mommy. We’ll come to the hospital to be with you!” Calvin's voice rang out reassuringly, while little Arya chimed in, “Mommy, I miss you.” Violet’s heart swelled with emotion, her eyes glossing over with unshed tears. The separation from her children felt like a lifetime, magnified by the suddenness of events that had unfolded. “I miss you too,” she whispered, every syllable a promise forged in the fires of her love. As their call ended, a renewed sense of resilience washed over her. She headed back to the ward, breakfast revitalizing her spirit. But upon entering, she was met with an emptiness that stung; the bed where Stanley lay was vacant. Panic surged through her veins as she hurried to the nurse's station. “Excuse me, where is the patient in bed 808?” One of the nurses looked up from her chart, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. “He’s left.” His absence hit Violet like a cold wave crashing against a rocky shore. How could he have left so soon? Confusion and concern twisted in her gut. Had he truly walked out on his own—just like that? Her mind raced with countless questions as she clutched the breakfast tray tighter, feeling the weight of the unknown hovering just beyond her reach.