Chapter 263. Do You Want to Come?

ASHER

As Tate continued singing, I found myself leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching him play. There was something so captivating about the way he strummed the guitar—effortless, like the strings were an extension of his fingers.

His voice, smooth and rich, filled the small hospital room, and for a moment, it didn’t feel like we were in a sterile space filled with the hum of machines. It felt… intimate. Like we had all been transported to a quiet, hidden moment where the outside world didn’t exist.

The kid’s tantrum had melted away completely. His eyes sparkled with joy as he swayed softly to the music, clutching his broken Walkman like it didn’t matter anymore. Even Jodi, phone in hand, was lost in the performance. I couldn’t blame them.

Tate had a way of pulling people in—like gravity. I knew he didn’t sing with the goal of impressing people; he was just… him. No show, no grand gestures, just a man with a guitar, doing something kind for