Moments before the accident

She thought about her uncle and the job he had arranged for her. "You just need to take care of him, Luna. Show authority. Don't let him do whatever he wants." But everything was much more complicated now.

The Donan she had known before—the arrogant, defiant one—was slowly disappearing, replaced by someone much more fragile.

"Is this really about revenge?" Luna wondered. "Or am I… perhaps starting to see a side of him I never imagined?" She shook her head, trying to push these thoughts away. She couldn't allow herself to get involved. Not now.

Donan, still with his eyes closed, groaned again, and Luna leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. "You'll be fine. You just need to rest. I'll help you."

He didn't reply, but his body relaxed slightly. Luna realized something then. Even though he was feverish and weak, he was no longer trying to evade her or defend himself as he used to. He was trusting her—or perhaps he was simply too exhausted to resist.

This thought caused a slight ache in her chest. She couldn't afford to be weak now; she couldn't let herself get involved in any of this. She couldn't let her emotions interfere.

"No. I can't think like this," she murmured to herself. But, somehow, she couldn't help it. He was starting to occupy more space in her mind than she cared to admit.

As night fell outside and the van remained parked, Luna looked at the boy lying there, his breathing becoming steadier.

She knew he was recovering, but she also knew there was still much left unresolved between them. And maybe, somehow, this was the beginning of something unexpected.

Night had already taken over the forest. Luna remained by Donan's side, watching his deep, uneven breaths, traces of fever still visible on his pale face. The van was quiet, but the surrounding atmosphere seemed to carry a silent tension, a sense of suspense, as if something was about to happen. She began to wonder what she was doing there, whether she was overreacting by taking care of him.

But when she looked at Donan's face, she found herself thinking about how different he seemed from when she first met him.

That arrogant boy who treated her with disdain and superiority was now lying there, vulnerable, almost childlike in his frailty.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts that were beginning to take shape.

"You're confusing me, Donan," she thought, staring at the boy with a troubled expression. "This can't happen... I can't get involved."

But the truth was, she was already involved—unintentionally. The way he, despite everything, now trusted her. The fact that she was the only one there who could help, the only one doing anything to ease his pain, had become a responsibility. And Luna had never liked feeling that she couldn't handle her responsibilities, that she couldn't manage a situation.

She glanced to the side, where the road was still visible through the van's window. The forest seemed endless, and time passed slowly.

The idea of staying there until dawn began to weigh on her. But at the same time, she knew she couldn't leave him alone. Their situation was unique, perhaps even surreal.

Donan moved his lips then, as if trying to speak, but the words came out distorted, meaningless. Luna leaned closer, her eyes attentive, trying to understand what he was attempting to say.

"Don't worry, I'm here... I'll take care of you," she murmured softly, more to herself than to him.

He calmed down slightly, and Luna felt a strange relief, a sense of having fulfilled her role. But at the same time, a part of her questioned what she was really doing there.

She knew he wasn't the kind of person she should be worrying about—not with so many other things at stake—but she couldn't deny the connection between them, something she couldn't yet identify.

"Is this what destiny has in store for us? Was I chosen for this? To help him?" Luna asked herself softly, her eyes fixed on Donan's face. "Did everything happen this way for a reason?"

She sat in silence for a moment, pensive. The night was getting colder, but she stayed by his side, unsure of what to expect. Her mind began to tangle with thoughts she didn't want to have.

Something was happening, and she didn't know how to deal with it. But for now, her only concern was to help Donan recover from the fever so they could move forward—so she could finally understand what was happening between them.

Donan was caught in a whirlwind of thoughts. The fever burned his skin, and he felt lost, unsure of what was happening. Every piece of reality seemed to blur, and he tried to hold onto any thread of logic he could find, but it was futile. Memories surfaced in quick, confusing flashes, as if he were watching a movie that made no sense.

That curve on the road… the feeling that something was about to happen, and then the snap of the tire. He could still hear that sound. Then, the suggestion from his friends for him to check out that vehicle, the one that had to change its tire right on the edge of the cliff.

Now he remembered that one of his friends had sabotaged the brakes on his bike, which, despite being expensive, had no way of stopping with just the front brake—not on that dirt descent. Not after gaining so much momentum.

He remembered heading straight toward the side of the van, and suddenly, its sliding door opened, and he was abruptly hurled inside.

This caused the hydraulic jack holding it partially raised to detach, and now he could clearly see in his memory the van swaying uncontrollably, the impact as it crashed into the trees, the fear, and the entire process that followed.

And Luna, that strange girl, was there the whole time. Who was he trying to fool? How did he not realize that everything was so wrong?

 But he couldn't deny it; he couldn't hide the fact that something was changing inside him. Those words she spoke... "I'll take care of you." Something in the way she said it, in the calmness of her voice, made him feel more vulnerable than anything else.

Deep down, he knew he wasn't that kind of boy. He wasn't the kind who needed help, or anyone else, but there he was—completely dependent on her.

And the anger he felt for being like this—for being so weak, for being "taken care of" by someone like her—bothered him. He didn't like the feeling of being seen as weak. But he couldn't deny the fact that she seemed to be the only one who knew how to handle everything that was happening, and that made him feel even more powerless.

He didn't want to admit it, but something inside him was starting to stir—a strange sensation he couldn't understand. It was as if he was beginning to realize that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as independent as he thought.

Maybe he needed someone. Or perhaps it was time to start seeing things differently.