I Stopped Loving Him When He Let Me Bleed Out novel Chapter 97

Sienna took a deep, steadying breath, raised her phone, and scanned the code.

A soft chime confirmed the action.

Connected.

Refusing to look at Finn, she shoved her phone into her pocket, gave Julian a terse "Contact me if you need anything," and marched out of the room, letting the door swing shut behind her.

Finn's gaze trailed her every movement until she was out of sight.

He kept his phone raised, the screen locked on their newly established chat interface.

It felt like he had just conquered a war and seized the ultimate prize.

He stared at her avatar, the same picture of the endless ocean under a bright blue sky.

Her feed was set to only show the last three days, and there was absolutely nothing on it.

The avatar was the only piece of her he could examine.

He zoomed in on the image, studying it for a long time, and a slow, irrepressible smile curved onto his lips.

The grin spread all the way to his eyes, forcing his bruised and battered cheek to crinkle in pure joy.

Finally, he pressed the phone flat against his chest, clutching it like a priceless treasure.

Julian watched him, his confusion mounting by the second.

"Captain Fletcher, I rarely see you smile like this. You might be injured, but you seem to be in spectacularly good spirits."

Finn reflexively cast a glance toward the door.

Sienna was long gone, the door sealed tight.

He pulled his gaze back, flipped his phone over, and carefully placed it face-up on his pillow.

"Julian, I'm always like this."

Julian almost got whiplash from the casual first-name drop.

In his ten years at the Aeromedical Division, he had dealt with Finn countless times, and the man had exclusively addressed him as 'Director Vance'—polite, distant, and strictly professional.

Everyone at Global Air knew Finn was an iceberg. He never warmed up to anyone and maintained an impenetrable boundary as a rule.

Being addressed so warmly today was a staggering show of respect.

Julian's face broke into a massive, crinkled grin.

"Just focus on healing. Don't worry about flying. Your health comes first."

"Julian, I really appreciate you making the trip," Finn said, his tone turning earnest. "Drinks are on me. You pick the place."

Now, the roles were reversed. It was his turn to chase.

Back then, the moment they connected online, Sienna had messaged him almost every single day. Not with generic 'good morning' or 'good night' texts, but with endless streams of everything she had seen, heard, and thought about that day.

She would send a picture of her cafeteria lunch, saying, 'The BBQ ribs are amazing today, did you eat yet?'

She would send a picture of a library desk, saying, 'The sunlight is perfect right here, I saved you a seat.'

She never demanded to know what he was doing. She never forced him to reply.

She simply wanted him to know she was always there.

Down in the hospital cafeteria, Sienna was eating lunch when her phone buzzed.

She tapped the notification, and her entire body went rigid.

Her fork slipped from her grasp, clattering loudly against the table before rolling to a stop against her plate.

The photo Finn had sent was low-resolution and blurry, a tiny, poorly formatted image dwarfed by heavy white margins that didn't fit modern smartphone dimensions.

But she recognized it instantly.

It was a plastic airplane model, its cheap, glossy paint catching the glare of a desk lamp, sitting on a dorm room desk. A shadow was cast softly against the wall from the left.