Chapter 1103: Theodore's Apology to Hannah

Theodore glanced at Oscar's retreating back, then at Hannah, whose face was unfamiliar. Confusion washed over him. Manuel, previously focused on his daughter, shifted his gaze and asked, "Why are you two back?"

"We didn't leave yesterday," Theodore replied, regaining his composure.

Manuel frowned, "Hum?"

Hannah also looked at Theodore expectantly.

"Don't get me wrong," Theodore hastened to explain, addressing Hannah directly. She remained silent, not dwelling on his words.

"We were on the plane home when Northfield experienced thunderstorms, grounding the flight. We spent the night onboard, hoping for better weather. This morning, Oscar received a message from Salem; Susan was in labor. Since we couldn't fly, we came to see Manuel's child."

Theodore's rapid explanation attempted to account for their unexpected return. Hannah, surprised to see Oscar again after believing their paths wouldn't cross, said nothing.

"I'll just go," Theodore mumbled awkwardly before leaving. Manuel nodded curtly. The room fell silent as everyone absorbed the lingering awkwardness between Hannah and Oscar. They seemed neither lovers, friends, strangers, nor enemies—simply adrift in unease. Susan attempted to lighten the mood, but the tension remained palpable.

"I should go too," Hannah began.

"You wouldn't leave when I asked, but now that Oscar's here, you're leaving? If I'd known how useful Oscar was, I'd have called him sooner! Last night wouldn't have been ruined," Susan lamented, dwelling on Hannah's wedding night.

Hannah, unable to respond, turned to Manuel. "When Salem wakes up, tell him I had an emergency and left. He can call if he misses me; I'll come back if I'm free," she explained, her meaning clear: she would visit only when Oscar was absent. Manuel nodded in understanding.

Hannah glanced at Salem before departing.

"Hannah," Manuel called as she left the ward.

Hannah, surprised he followed, replied, "Yes?"

"Did anything happen between you and Doyle last night? Did it affect you?" Manuel asked, his concern evident.

Hannah smiled faintly. "Nope. Don't worry; I can handle myself."

"Your independence worries me," Manuel said sincerely. "If only you weren't so..."

"Don't worry, I'm glad to be alive," Hannah interrupted, cutting him off.

Manuel, recognizing their shared stoicism and preference for bearing burdens alone, conceded. "Okay. Salem will call when he wakes."

"Thanks. See ya," Hannah said gratefully, smiling before leaving.

Manuel watched her go, then called Theodore, informing him of Hannah's departure and assuring their safe return. He sighed, contemplating the fractured state of Oscar and Hannah's relationship.

Theodore answered Manuel's call on the hospital rooftop, where he and Oscar were smoking—a continuation of their marathon session from the previous evening. Theodore urged Oscar to rest at the hotel, but he refused, remaining silent, lost in the smoke. They'd only learned of Susan's condition that morning.

Their unexpected encounter with Hannah followed. At one point, Oscar fled at the sight of her, overwhelmed by fear.

"I'll go to the ward," Theodore said. Oscar nodded.

Theodore left the rooftop, not for the ward, but for the garage. He appeared before Hannah's departing car, forcing her to brake sharply. She was startled until she recognized him, then sighed in relief—accustomed to his recklessness.

He approached her car window.

Theodore, uncomfortable with Hannah's unfamiliar appearance, asked hesitantly, "Hannah?" His tone conveyed both a question and disbelief. How had she survived?

"It's me," Hannah confirmed; there was no point in hiding it.

"How are you still alive?"

"Sorry to disappoint you," Hannah joked lightly. But Theodore reacted strongly. "What? I prayed for your survival daily! I can't believe it! You're not lying?"

Hannah, uninterested in further explanation, retorted, "I'm insignificant to you, anyway."

"Insignificant? You're incredibly important to us! You don't know how much Oscar loves you..." Theodore, noticing Hannah's distress, quickly shifted gears. "But seriously, I'm grateful you're alive. I regret everything from back then, feeling guilty. I've even turned to alcohol. You're the only one I wronged."

His words conveyed genuine remorse; years of self-reproach weighed heavily on him.