A Script of Borrowed Times

DAMON POV

This hospital was nothing like the exclusive fitness centers or five-star hotel lobbies I usually visited. The air here felt cold, carrying the mixed scent of floor cleaner and carefully concealed fragments of hope.

I pulled the hood of my black hoodie lower and adjusted the medical mask over my face until only a narrow opening remained for my eyes.

My chest thundered violently.

I felt like a major criminal returning to the scene of the crime. Even though, according to the online news stories my agency had carefully spun, I was technically the “victim” everyone was supposed to pity.

Yeah, right. How hypocritical.

I walked through the pediatric oncology ward and stopped at the nurse's station.

“Excuse me. Which room is Jilly in? Jilly Pierce?” I asked.

The nurse on duty looked up. “Pierce? You mean Jilly Lee?”

Her eyes swept over my appearance from head to toe, filled with suspicion.

“Who are you?”

“I-I'm Julia’s cousin. From... Manhattan. Yeah, Manhattan.”

I was used to acting and lying for a living, but this time I felt incredibly nervous. And the guilt only tightened around my throat.

“Oh, Room 402, sir. But do not stay too long. The patient’s condition has been unstable because of the news on TV.”

The nurse’s words landed like a direct punch to my stomach.

“Okay. Thank you.”

I slowly walked toward Jilly’s room. The door was not completely closed, leaving a gap of several inches—just enough for me to peek inside. The lights in the room had been deliberately dimmed.

I saw Julia sitting quietly beside the bed. Her back was facing me, but her shoulders looked exhausted and slumped.

Then my gaze shifted to the small figure lying weakly in the bed. The little girl was so tiny.

Far smaller, thinner, and more fragile than anything I had imagined. Her head was nearly bald, covered by a faded pink knitted beanie. A clear IV tube was taped to her frail arm.

What made my breath catch was what Jilly was holding in her arms. A pillow printed with my face.

Damon Watts smiling brightly at the camera without a care in the world—a cheap licensed piece of merchandise I often saw being sold outside filming locations.

My heart felt like it stopped beating when I saw it.

“I do not want any more treatments. They hurt,” the little girl whined softly.

“Sweetheart, hang in there, okay? Remember what Dr. Grant said? They just want to give you more superhero blood.”

Jilly smiled a little. “So I can meet Damon.”

Hearing those words from a little girl made my knees suddenly feel weak.

“That’s why you have to keep fighting with me, okay, sweetheart?” Julia said.

“Yeah, okay.” Jilly coughed softly. “Mom, aren’t you supposed to be at Uncle Alfred’s diner?”

“Oh, Uncle Alfred said there is not much work at the diner right now. So I’m going to find another job. Do not worry. I’ll find one.”

“You should try meeting Damon, Mom. Maybe he can help you.”

“I will, but I want to make sure you’re okay first.”

My chest tightened instantly.

I leaned against the hallway wall, my breathing catching in my throat. It felt as though a giant rock had been dropped onto my lungs.

I had just witnessed a bitter reality that had never been written into any script Marcus had ever handed me.

Inside that dim room was not some crazy middle-aged stalker. Inside that room was simply a single mother and her daughter.

A woman whose world was falling apart piece by piece. And a dying child who saw a bastard like me as her hero.

“You bastard, Damon. You asshole,” I muttered under my breath.

For the first time, I fully realized how disgusting and cruel the entertainment industry I had always been proud of truly was. We celebrities were paid millions to sell beautiful dreams to the public. Meanwhile, people like Julia were forced to live through real nightmares because of our selfishness.

I remembered how carelessly I had stomped on her old phone in the trailer. That cracked phone might have contained the only childhood photos she had left. Voice recordings or videos she used to keep her daughter’s spirits alive while she fought a brutal disease.

Suddenly, the creak of a wooden door startled me.

Room 402 opened. Julia stepped out in a hurry and nearly walked straight into my chest.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

But Julia did not continue walking. Instead, she stopped in front of me and looked up. She narrowed her eyes as though there was something strange about me.

“Who are you?” she asked bluntly.

I shook my head nervously.

I should have said something. Wrong room, or something.

Damn it, my tongue felt frozen.

Then Julia’s eyes widened slightly. She gasped and took a step back.

From the look in her eyes, I could already tell something terrible was about to happen.

“You?” Her voice was low but full of deep hatred. “What are you doing here?”

“Julia, I came here to—”

“Was that not enough?” she cut in sharply, staring at me. “Was it not enough that you got the entire world to label me a crazy stalker? Was it not enough that you made my life even more of a disaster?”

“Just listen—”

Julia’s body trembled violently as she shook her head. “Did you listen to me back then?”

“Julia, please.”

“I was begging you for the exact same thing back then. And now I do not want to hear a single word from you. Leave. Stop turning me into another prop for your fame.”

I slowly lowered my mask. “I came alone. No cameras. No agency.”

“And I’m supposed to be touched by that? The great Damon Watts came all the way to this hospital just to show me his fake sympathy?” Julia let out a bitter laugh.

“I-I know I was wrong. My head was a mess back then, and I...” I forced myself to meet her eyes even though it felt difficult. “I saw the original footage. You were never trying to attack me.”

“So the Hollywood prince finally realized he stepped on the wrong person?”

Julia stepped forward, closing the distance between us.

“Listen, Mr. Watts. To you, our ruined lives might just be numbers or another pathetic story to boost your image. But to me, this is my daughter’s life,” Julia whispered, her voice colder than ice.

“I do not see this as content, Julia. I swear to God, I want to make this right.”

“Make what right?” she hissed. “Can you clear my name out there? Can you bring my broken phone back? Or can you restore the photos of my daughter before chemotherapy took all her hair?”

That hit me harder than any slap ever could. Even though Julia never laid a finger on me.

Julia stared at me coldly. “You cannot do any of that, can you?”

“We can talk about this, and—”

“Leave! Do not ever come near my daughter again! Do not come back here with your garbage cameras or your agency!”

“Please, just give me time to clear your name. I’ll do it. I swear.”

“You think I trust an actor like you?”

Julia’s bitter laugh, dripping with sarcasm, hurt more than I expected.

“Now get out of here. I do not need anything from you.” Julia took a deep breath. “Leave!”

Julia’s emotional voice was beginning to attract attention. Several nurses at the station and family members of other patients were already turning toward us suspiciously.

I knew that if I stayed and kept pushing, a huge scene would break out. And that would only make things worse for Julia.

I looked at her one more time.

A woman who was incredibly strong, independent, and strikingly beautiful in her simplicity, even while her entire world was collapsing around her.

And in that moment, I realized there was a massive wall standing between us. A wall I had built myself through my own stupidity.

“I’m sorry.” Those were the only pathetic words I could manage.

I turned and walked quickly away from the pediatric oncology ward.

I deliberately ran down the emergency stairs because I could not bear the thought of waiting for an elevator and running into other people. The moment I pushed through the hospital’s exit doors, I ripped off my mask.

I took a deep breath. But the pain in my chest still would not go away.

Right then, my phone rang loudly in my pocket. The name Marcus flashed across the screen.

I lazily swiped the green button. “Damon! Where the hell are you?”

Before Marcus could continue, I cut him off immediately.

“Stop every single story about Julia Pierce. Right now. Or I’m walking away from every contract I signed. Do you hear me?”