The Beneath
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Chapter 10: Forgiveness
The afternoon light slanted through the hospital blinds, warm and hazy. Stella lay half-awake, drifting between dreams and the hum of the ward. Her mind had quieted since the night of voices, though the guilt still sat in her chest like a stone.
When the door opened, she thought at first it was another nurse. Then she saw him — the man from the park. The widower.
He stood uncertainly in the doorway, a small bouquet of wildflowers trembling in his hand. His clothes were the same, though his face looked older now, worn down by sleepless nights.
Stella’s heart clenched. Her throat went dry. “You ... came back,” she whispered.
He nodded, stepping closer. “I had to.”
For a long moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the steady rhythm of her heart monitor and the faint rustle of his coat as he moved toward the bed. When he finally sat down beside her, his presence felt strangely gentle — no anger, no accusation.
“I was cruel to you,” he said quietly. “I said things no one should say to someone already broken.”
Tears welled in Stella’s eyes. “But I did it,” she breathed. “I hurt her. I killed her.”
He shook his head slowly. “You were frightened. You were hurt. She tried to help, and it went wrong. That’s not the same as murder.”
She turned her face away, unable to bear the kindness in his tone. Her chest ached with guilt and disbelief.
He hesitated, then looked toward her legs — both locked in white casts, still and helpless beneath the thin hospital blanket. The sight of her brokenness seemed to undo something in him.
His voice softened. “You’ve already paid for it a hundred times in here,” he said, tapping his chest. “You don’t need to keep punishing yourself.”
Stella blinked back tears. She followed his gaze — saw the way the plaster curved around her knee, her skin pale and motionless beyond it. Her toes, visible at the end, were slightly swollen, the bruising faint beneath the hospital light. He looked at them not with pity or discomfort, but with quiet, human empathy — as if seeing them reminded him of her fragility, her humanity.