Chapter 32
The next morning, Harper woke up feeling like her head was about to split in two. A glass of cold water with ice sat on the nightstand, likely left by Eleanor. Grateful for the gesture, she sipped it slowly, hoping it would help ease the waves of nausea. After a few moments of lying still, she mustered the strength to get out of bed and started getting dressed for the day.
When she made her way downstairs, she found everyone gathered in the kitchen. Oliver was already there, absorbed in one of his textbooks while casually eating his breakfast.
"Oh, there you are, love," Eleanor greeted warmly from the stove. "Are you hungry?"
Harper glanced at the food on the table but immediately felt her stomach turn. The thought of eating was too much, and with a grimace, she shook her head. "I think I'll pass for now," she said, her voice hoarse from the lingering effects of last night.
Harper flopped down onto the sofa, sinking into the cushions with a tired sigh as she watched Oliver quietly eat his breakfast, his eyes still glued to his textbook. Her head was still pounding, and every noise in the kitchen felt a little too loud. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to push through the fog of her hangover.
After a few minutes, Oliver snapped his book shut and glanced over at her. "You ready to go?" he asked, standing up and grabbing his bag from the counter.
"Yeah," Harper groaned, reluctantly pushing herself up from the sofa. She slipped on her shoes, still moving slowly as if the world was spinning slightly off balance.
They made their way outside, and Harper slid into the passenger seat of Oliver's car. As they pulled out of the driveway, she couldn't help but glance over at him. His usual demeanour was replaced by a heavy stillness. His eyes looked a little bloodshot, and there were faint dark circles under them. He yawned quietly, trying to hide it.
"You look exhausted," Harper said, her voice filled with concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Oliver gave her a small, reassuring smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just stayed up late studying last night. You know how it is."
Harper raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "You sure? You don't look like you slept at all."
He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. "It's nothing. Just trying to stay on top of things. I'll catch up on sleep later."
Harper nodded, though a part of her still felt worried. But she didn't push further—Oliver was stubborn when it came to stuff like this, and she knew he'd brush it off even if he was running on fumes. Instead, she leaned back against her seat, staring out the window as the familiar scenery passed by.
Before long, they arrived at the university. The campus was already buzzing with students, the hustle and bustle of a new day in full swing. Oliver parked the car, and they both climbed out.
"Alright, see you later," Oliver said, flashing her a quick smile as he shouldered his bag.
"Yeah, see you," Harper replied, giving him a small wave. She watched him walk off toward his building, his posture a little more hunched than usual. She hoped he wouldn't push himself too hard.
With a sigh, Harper turned and headed toward her own class, still trying to shake the remnants of her hangover as she mentally prepared herself for the long day ahead.
In the bright, sterile classroom, Harper sat with her head resting in her hand, trying to focus through the thick fog of her hangover. The soft beeping of machines and murmurs of students filled the air as they paired up for the practical session. Today, they were practising taking each other's blood pressure, and Harper was partnered with Keith.
Keith sat in front of her, rolling up his sleeve while tapping his fingers on the desk, his impatience palpable. Harper fumbled slightly with the blood pressure cuff, trying to remember the exact steps their instructor had demonstrated just moments ago, but her head was pounding, making it hard to concentrate.
"Are you ready?" Keith asked, his tone clipped as he noticed her distracted movements.
"Yeah, yeah, just a sec," Harper muttered, tightening the cuff around his arm in a way that felt too loose even to her. She blinked hard, trying to focus on the dial of the sphygmomanometer, but the numbers seemed to blur.
As she pumped the cuff, she lost track of when to stop inflating, and Keith winced slightly as the cuff tightened too much.
"Harper, come on!" Keith snapped, pulling his arm away from her. "Are you even paying attention? You're going to mess this up completely!"
Harper flinched at the sharpness of his words, her already aching head now pounding with added embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, trying to adjust the cuff again, her hands shaking.
"Sorry doesn't cut it," Keith continued, his voice rising with frustration. "You're not even trying to focus! This is important, Harper. What are you even doing here if you're not going to take it seriously?"
Several other students turned their heads at the commotion, their eyes flicking between Keith's irritated face and Harper's flushed, tired expression.
"I... I just—" Harper stammered, feeling the weight of everyone's gaze on her. She knew she wasn't at her best today, but Keith's words cut deep.
The instructor, noticing the tension in the room, walked over to their station, her brow furrowed with concern. "Is everything alright here?" she asked, glancing between the two.
Keith crossed his arms, clearly still fuming. "Harper's not paying attention, and this is supposed to be serious practice. If she messes up something like this with a real patient, it could be dangerous."
Harper shrank under the weight of his words, a sinking feeling of guilt settling in her stomach. The instructor turned to her, her tone gentler but firm. "Harper, why don't you take a moment to gather yourself. Maybe step outside for a breath of fresh air?"
Harper nodded wordlessly, unable to meet anyone's gaze. She stood up, her legs feeling wobbly as she excused herself and headed toward the door. The moment she stepped out into the cool hallway, she leaned against the wall and exhaled shakily, her eyes stinging with tears she tried to suppress.
Harper sat on the bench outside the classroom, still trying to calm her frayed nerves when the door creaked open, and Keith stepped out. His expression had softened from the frustrated one he'd worn earlier, replaced by something resembling regret. He glanced at her, shuffling awkwardly before taking a seat beside her on the bench.
"Hey," Keith started, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. "Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for snapping at you back there. I didn't mean to blow up like that."
Harper looked at him, surprised by his sudden change in tone. She had expected Keith to be angry for the rest of the day, but the apology caught her off guard. "No, it's okay," she replied quietly, feeling some of the tension leave her body. "I wasn't really paying attention like I should've been."
Keith sighed. "Yeah, but that's not an excuse for me to go off on you like that. I'm just… stressed. A lot happened last night, and I guess I took it out on you." He hesitated, as if debating whether or not to say more but ultimately chose to keep the specifics to himself.
Harper offered a small smile. "I get it. We all have off days, right?" she said softly, her tone understanding. "Thanks for apologising."
They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before Keith let out a deep breath, his tense posture finally relaxing. "You know, for someone who's hungover, you're holding up pretty well," he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.
Harper couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah, well, you didn't see me this morning. I looked like death warmed over."
Keith chuckled, leaning back on the bench. "I can imagine. I've been there. Rough night, huh?"
"Ugh, you have no idea," Harper groaned, rolling her eyes but smiling at the same time.
Keith smirked. "Hey, maybe next time, I'll be the one dragging you out of bed for class."
Harper laughed again, the sound light and genuine, and for the first time that morning, she felt some of the weight lift off her shoulders. Keith had this way of disarming her frustration, and despite everything, she appreciated his effort to make things right.
As they continued to talk and joke, neither of them noticed Oliver watching from the window of his classroom on the second floor. His eyes had been drawn to the scene on the bench, and the sight of Harper laughing—really laughing—alongside Keith sparked an unexpected feeling of annoyance deep inside him.
Oliver furrowed his brow, his thoughts turning inward as he watched the two. He knew Harper well enough to recognize that she wasn't just smiling out of politeness; she seemed genuinely happy, the kind of carefree joy that had been missing from their interactions lately. A strange, gnawing feeling bubbled up inside him.
Had he ever made her laugh like that?
The question hovered in his mind, stirring an uncomfortable pang in his chest. Oliver clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing as Keith said something that made Harper tilt her head back in laughter again.
Maybe it was irrational, but seeing him get so close to Harper, making her laugh like that, grated on Oliver's nerves in a way he couldn't quite explain.
Oliver tore his gaze away from the window, forcing himself to focus on the lecture, though the irritation gnawed at the edges of his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that something about Keith was off, and the thought of him getting close to Harper made Oliver feel protective, almost possessive.
He exhaled slowly, resolving to push the thought away. But one thing was clear: he didn't like Keith, not one bit.
Harper and Keith eventually made their way back into the classroom, and the atmosphere felt noticeably more relaxed. Harper, now with a clearer head and a few laughs under her belt, focused back on the task at hand. With her concentration sharpened, she finally began to get the hang of taking blood pressure. Her confidence grew as she wrapped the cuff around her classmate's arm, and this time, she managed to measure the reading correctly.
"Nice work," Keith said, nodding in approval.
Harper smiled in return, feeling a sense of relief that the day was turning around. The rest of the class continued with less tension, and they were all getting into the rhythm of things, practicing on each other with more ease.
But then, out of nowhere, disaster struck.
While passing a set of textbooks to another student, someone accidentally dropped a large folder from the desk, and it hit Harper squarely on the head. The combination of the sharp thud and her lingering hangover made her vision blur instantly. Her head swam, and before she could react or say anything, she felt the room start to spin.
"Harper?" Keith's voice cut through the fog, but before she could respond, everything went dark, and her body went limp, collapsing against the desk.
A collective gasp rippled through the classroom as Harper slumped over, unconscious. The teacher rushed to her side, trying to shake her awake gently.
"Harper? Harper!" the instructor called out, but she didn't respond.
Panic began to spread, and the students stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Keith, however, sprang into action. Without hesitation, he leaned down and carefully picked her up, cradling her in his arms.
"She hit her head, and with that hangover… I'll take her to the hospital!" Keith said with urgency, glancing at the teacher, who nodded in agreement.
"The hospital is right next door. Go quickly," the instructor instructed, motioning toward the door.
Keith didn't waste any more time. Holding Harper securely, he rushed out of the classroom, making his way toward the nearby campus hospital. Other students murmured in concern as they watched the scene unfold, but Keith was laser-focused on getting Harper help as fast as possible.
Harper's head lolled against Keith's shoulder as he hurried across campus. She was still out cold, and his heart pounded with worry, though he maintained his composure. He weaved through the throng of students outside, who were oblivious to the urgency of the situation.
"Hang in there," Keith whispered, mostly to himself as he neared the hospital doors.
As he entered, medical staff immediately spotted the situation and directed him toward a nearby room where Harper could be assessed. Nurses quickly took over, laying Harper down on a stretcher as they checked her vitals. Keith stepped back, watching from the sidelines, his face etched with concern.
As Oliver was sitting in class, trying to focus on his lecture, the door suddenly burst open. Desiree rushed in, her face pale and eyes wide with worry.
"Oliver!" she panted, slightly out of breath. "It's Harper… something happened."
Oliver's heart dropped. Without waiting for an explanation, he bolted from his seat and dashed out of the classroom. Desiree tried to keep up, calling after him, but Oliver was already halfway down the corridor, sprinting toward the campus hospital.
His mind raced. What happened? How bad was it? The minutes felt like hours as he rushed down the familiar pathways until, finally, he reached the hospital. Skidding to a halt at the door of the room Desiree had told him about, he spotted Harper lying in a hospital bed, pale but breathing steadily. Hovering over her was Keith, who glanced back as Oliver entered.
Oliver rushed to Harper's bedside, pushing past Keith with a mixture of concern and irritation. "What happened?" he asked urgently.
"She got hit in the head with a hard file and passed out," Keith replied, his hands shoved into his pockets. "The nurse said she'll be fine, just needs some rest."
Oliver's eyes narrowed as he looked at Keith. "And what were you doing?" he questioned, his tone sharp as he referred to how Keith was hovering over Harper when he arrived.
"I wasn't doing anything," Keith said, his voice defensive and slightly flustered.
"Didn't look that way to me," Oliver replied, struggling to keep his calm despite his anger. "Why is it always you?"
Keith shifted uncomfortably, looking like a child caught red-handed. "I just brought her here," he muttered.
"Thanks for that," Oliver said coldly. "I'm here now, so you can leave." Oliver gently stroked Harper's hair as he waited by her bedside for her to wake up, his frustration mingling with deep concern. He struggled to set aside the anger he felt towards Keith, focusing instead on Harper's well-being.