I Think You Probably Need A Hug Right Now.**Genevieve's POV**

The wheels rolled over the uneven asphalt as I drove into Bethlehem, this old workers' residential area. Rows of red-brick rowhouses stood silently, their walls stained with mottled traces from steel mill smoke, junk piled at street corners, everywhere showing the desolation after industry's curtain call.

When I pushed open the front door, my father was curled up on the old fabric sofa in the living room, clutching his chest with a pained expression.

Seeing me suddenly return, he fumbled to turn off the TV and forced himself to sit up straight, squeezing out a smile. His yellowed hair had lost its luster, his lips were pale, and the vertical line between his brows had deepened since I last saw him.

"Hey, baby, why did you suddenly come back? Don't you have to work?"

I glanced at the half-empty bottle of painkillers on the dining table, walked over and squatted down to meet his eyes: "I took leave, Dad. You need to go back to the hospital."

He made a face at me: "God, I get a headache just looking at medical bills. Give me a break."

"What about that friend you said you got along well with on the phone yesterday?" He changed the subject, looking at me teasingly. "When are you bringing him for me to see?"

Usually I might have awkwardly changed the topic, but the man I met yesterday was practically perfect. Now I could answer without any guilt: "When do you want to meet him?"

My father was obviously stunned: "...Really?"

"If you want to meet him, sure," I straightened up and smiled mysteriously, "but there's a condition. If he comes, you go back to the hospital. How about it?"

"Oh please!" He lay back down in frustration. "I actually believed you just now."

I put my hands on my hips and looked at him: "I'll have him come here. If he comes, you'll obediently go back for treatment. Do you dare to bet?"

To be honest, I wasn't sure if Reginald would come. After all, we'd only met for the first time yesterday—strictly speaking, we were strangers. He was still in his startup phase, and getting to Bethlehem would take two hours; he might not have the time. But if I didn't gamble on this, my father would never give in.

I went outside to call Reginald, already prepared to drag a friend to impersonate him if I got rejected.

After the call connected, he was silent for two seconds, then said to send the location, he'd be there in about an hour.

Cool. Still so handsome and decisive. Even with some particular little quirks, he still counted as a perfect partner.

I went into the kitchen to prepare some food. I'd just heated the pan when a dull thud of something heavy hitting the floor suddenly came from the living room.

"Dad? What fell?"

No response.

I threw down the spatula and ran out. My father had slid entirely off the sofa onto the floor, a bruise forming on his forehead, his eyes tightly closed.

No no no. Don't do this to me.

I crouched down, not daring to move him, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold my phone. When I dialed emergency services, my voice must have sounded pathetic—the operator kept saying "stay calm" on the other end.

The paramedics lifted my father onto a stretcher, and I followed into the ambulance. I have no memory of the journey from home to the hospital—I don't remember what they asked me or how I answered.

The emergency room door closed. I stood in the corridor with my back against the wall, telling myself over and over that he'd be okay.

My phone vibrated in my hand many times before I looked down—Reginald.

I sniffled, trying to make myself sound less wretched, and answered. His low voice came through: "I'm at the door. I rang the doorbell several times but no one answered. Did I remember the wrong house number?"

God, he actually thought he'd gotten it wrong. I swallowed hard and answered: "Sorry, my father suddenly collapsed. I took him to the hospital first."

As soon as I spoke, it came out as a sob. Damn it.

He paused for two seconds: "Can I come keep you company?"

I opened my mouth but couldn't speak.

Since my father got sick, I'd been handling everything myself. My brother was an unreliable addict, my sister was still in school. I should have been used to it by now. But when he said "don't be alone," I clutched my phone and tears fell again.

"...Okay."

Genevieve, you need to be stronger, okay? You've only known each other two days! You can't keep thinking about depending on him.

I patted my face trying to wake myself up.

After about twenty minutes, footsteps came from the end of the corridor. Reginald wore a dark gray shirt with sleeves rolled to his forearms, carrying a hot coffee and a paper bag. He walked up to me, didn't say any nonsense like "are you okay," just shoved the coffee and sandwich from the paper bag into my hands and sat down beside me.

When our fingers touched, his palm was burning hot—not as much as that time in the restaurant, but still hot like he had a fever.

"Eat something first."

Before I could thank him, the emergency room's red light went out.

The doctor came out saying my father had stabilized and we could go in to visit. When I stood up, my legs felt weak. Reginald reached out to steady me, with just the right amount of pressure, releasing after one second.

In the hospital room, my father lay half-propped against the headboard with his eyes open, his complexion still very poor. When he saw Reginald behind me, his previously vacant gaze immediately sharpened with that scrutiny of someone experienced—completely different from the old man joking with me on the sofa just minutes ago.

"Is this him?" My father looked at me.

I nodded.

My father ignored me, his gaze going straight past me to fix on Reginald: "Young man, come sit."

Reginald pulled over a chair and sat by the bed. His posture was composed, back straight, without that cramped feeling of being interrogated by an elder.

"What do you do for work?"

"I have my own business. Not a large scale."

"What about your family?"

"Both parents passed away. Only child."

My father looked at Reginald for several seconds. Reginald didn't avoid his gaze, nor did he deliberately meet it—he just quietly let him look.

"How did you and Eve meet? How long have you known each other?"

Oh no! I hadn't coordinated information with Reginald at all—on my phone last night I'd told my father we'd known each other for half a year.

"I helped her out of a bind. Someone was giving her trouble at a restaurant." Reginald said. "We've known each other less than a year."

Well done! Knowing each other two days does indeed count as less than a year.

Looks like he didn't just have a good-looking exterior, but a useful brain too. Now my father would definitely be reassured.

My father's eyebrows moved slightly, his gaze sweeping across my face and falling back on Reginald: "What are your intentions toward her?"

My back tensed and I was about to interrupt when Reginald spoke first: "I want to be with her. I know her situation isn't easy right now—debt, work, nothing is easy. I know all this."

He paused and added: "But I don't think these things are problems."

My father didn't respond. He slowly lay back on the pillow, closed his eyes, with an extremely faint arc at the corner of his mouth.

"Alright then." He said. "You seem okay."

I let my shoulders drop in relief. Reginald stood up and nodded slightly to my father: "Rest well, sir. Eve and I will be outside. Call us anytime if you need anything."

The hospital room door closed softly behind me. The corridor was very quiet, the smell of disinfectant mixing with the faint cedar scent on him.

"On my way here, I already contacted the hospital. All the procedures are ready. Let's transfer him this afternoon."

"I think you probably need a hug right now." The next second, he suddenly reached out and pulled me into his arms. Leaning against him, my body instantly stiffened, my nose brushing his shirt, the clear cedar scent hitting me full force.

His arms held very tight. My whole body was embedded in his embrace, and even through the thin fabric I could feel his extremely high body temperature. I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh, completely relaxing.