Chapter 8
Elara's POV
The room felt unbearably quiet as the night stretched on, the kind of silence that didn't bring peace but only made every thought louder. I sat at the edge of the bed, my fingers twisting the fabric of my dress without even realizing it, my mind replaying everything that had happened earlier. The words I had thrown at him, the way I had raised my voice, the way I had judged him without even trying to understand it all came back again and again, making my chest feel tight with guilt.
I shouldn't have trusted her. I didn't even know her, yet I let her words get into my head so easily. Jessica's voice, her mocking tone, her confidence it had all felt so convincing at that moment. But now, after hearing the truth, after seeing things more clearly, I felt stupid. Not just wrong, but unfair. I had blamed him for something that wasn't even real, and somehow that bothered me more than I expected.
I kept glancing at the door, waiting without admitting to myself that I was waiting. I told myself I just wanted to say sorry and get it over with, but the longer he didn't show up, the more restless I became. It was strange. Just yesterday, I had been afraid of him walking into this room. Now, the silence he left behind felt heavier than his presence.
When the door finally opened, the sound made my heart jump before I could control it. I looked up instantly, and for a moment, everything else faded away.
There was blood.
Not just a little. It was everywhere on his shirt, along his arm, staining the fabric in dark patches that hadn't even begun to dry yet. The sight made something cold settle in my stomach, a sharp shock that pushed everything else out of my mind.
I stood up immediately, my thoughts scattering. "What the hell happened to you?" The words came out faster than I intended, carrying more panic than I wanted to show.
He didn't seem affected at all. He walked inside like it was nothing, like coming home covered in blood was as normal as breathing. That calmness, that complete lack of reaction, made the situation feel even worse.
"It's nothing," he said, his voice flat as he moved toward the drawer.
Nothing. The word irritated me instantly. "You're literally bleeding," I said, stepping closer despite myself, my eyes fixed on the cut along his arm. It wasn't small. It wasn't something that could be ignored.
"I'll handle it," he replied without even looking at me.
That answer only made my frustration rise. I didn't even think before responding. "No, you won't."
The words hung in the air between us, sharper than I expected. For a second, he paused, his hand still near the drawer before he slowly turned his head toward me. His eyes met mine, calm but heavy in a way that made my heartbeat quicken.
"I'm serious," I added, softer this time but firm enough that I didn't back down. "Sit down."
He didn't move. Of course he didn't. He wasn't the type to take orders, and I knew that. Still, I didn't step back either. Instead, I turned, grabbed the first aid kit myself, and placed it on the table with a quiet but determined movement.
"If you don't sit, I'll still do it standing," I said, not even looking at him this time. "So either way, you're not getting out of this."
There was a pause, long enough for me to wonder if I had pushed too far. But then, without a word, he walked over and sat down. The simple act caught me off guard more than anything else that night.
I stepped closer, my hands slightly unsteady as I opened the kit. The smell of antiseptic filled the space between us, and for a moment, I became very aware of how close I was standing. Close enough to see the faint tension in his jaw, close enough to notice the way he watched me without saying anything.
"Don't move," I said quietly, focusing on the wound.
"I'm not," he replied, his tone calm, almost indifferent.
I cleaned the blood carefully, my movements slow but precise. The cut was deeper than I first thought, and I couldn't help the slight frown that formed on my face as I worked.
"Does it hurt?" I asked without thinking.
"No."
I glanced up at him briefly, unimpressed. "That's not believable."
"It's nothing," he repeated.
I let out a soft breath, shaking my head slightly. "You're impossible," I muttered, more to myself than to him.
For a moment, I thought I saw something shift in his expression, something small and almost unnoticeable. But it was gone before I could be sure.
Once I finished cleaning it, I wrapped the bandage carefully, making sure it was secure. My fingers brushed against his skin once more before I pulled back, suddenly aware of the closeness again.
The silence that followed felt different now. Not as tense. Not as heavy. Just… quiet.
I sat beside him slowly, my hands resting on my lap again as I stared down at them, gathering the courage to say what I had been holding in all evening.
"I'm sorry," I said finally, my voice softer than before.
The words felt heavier than I expected.
"I shouldn't have said those things earlier," I continued, forcing myself to keep going. "I didn't know the truth, and I still judged you. That wasn't fair."
He didn't interrupt, but I could feel his attention on me.
"I thought…" I hesitated, unsure how to put it into words. "I thought I came between you and her. Like I ruined something."
Saying it out loud made it sound even more ridiculous.
"I shouldn't have compared myself to her," I added quietly, my gaze dropping further. "She's probably everything you—"
"Enough."
His voice cut through mine, firm but not harsh.
I looked up, surprised.
"Don't compare yourself to someone like her," he said, his tone steady, leaving no space for argument.
My brows furrowed slightly. "What do you mean, someone like her?"
"She is a whore she was with me for money and power she wanted to marry me for those things only" he replied calmly, his eyes holding mine for a second longer. "And other things."
I tilted my head slightly. "Other things?"
His gaze didn't waver this time. "Good fuck."
The bluntness of it caught me completely off guard. For a second, I just stared at him, my face heating before I could stop it. A small, unexpected laugh slipped out of me, breaking the tension in a way I didn't expect.
"You're unbelievable," I said, shaking my head slightly. "You just say things like that without thinking?"
He didn't answer, but there was something in his expression that felt almost… amused.
"You're kind of a perv," I added before I could stop myself, the words slipping out naturally.
The moment I realized what I had said, I froze. But instead of reacting, instead of getting angry or cold like I expected, he simply looked at me. And somehow, that made my heart beat faster than any reaction would have.
The small smile on my lips didn't disappear this time.
Then I realised since I came here this is the first time I am smiling genuinely.
After a moment, the silence returned again, but it wasn't uncomfortable anymore. It felt… different.
"How do you know I'm not like that?" I asked quietly, my voice softer now, more thoughtful than defensive.
The question lingered between us.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he just looked at me, his gaze steady in a way that made it hard to look away.
Then, without saying anything, he stood up.
"Go to sleep," he said simply.
I watched him for a moment before slowly lying down on the bed, my thoughts still tangled but calmer than before. As I stared at the ceiling, one thing stayed with me.
He didn't answer my question but somehow I didn't wanted to hear it also.