Roman began applying the medicine on her back, tracing each welt with gentle, calculated strokes to avoid hurting her further.
"Hmm..." Patricia winced when the ointment touched the most painful spots, a strained sound slipping from her throat. But almost immediately, a soothing relief followed as Roman leaned in and blew softly against the raw skin. His warm breath against her back made the pain tolerable, almost bearable, and without realizing it, a faint smile tugged at her lips. She felt a flicker of comfort, grateful for the treatment.
Not even doctors at the hospital treated patients . She was getting VVIP care, tender, deliberate, and quietly reassuring.
"You will be given sleeping pills to help with the pain," Roman said, his voice low and steady. "And once you wake up, you will be bathed with warm water."
He closed the small bottle and stepped out from behind her. Then, gently, he helped her turn over and eased her down to lie on her chest. Patricia clutched the pillow, adjusting slowly until she found a position that didn’t hurt.
Later that day, Zara, who had heard what happened, sat beside Patricia. She wasn’t sad, but she wasn’t happy either. Her expression was unreadable. A storm of thoughts passed through her mind, but the loudest one was how she would get back at her family for this. More importantly, how to make Roman pay for not protecting Patricia like he promised.
She should have never trusted him. What could he possibly do, anyway? He didn’t even love Patricia. Why had she ever believed he would protect her?
"Hey," a soft voice called.
Zara looked up instantly. She knew that voice. Patricia was awake, her tired eyes meeting Zara’s.
"How are you feeling? Does it still hurt?" Zara asked, scanning her face, then her arms, checking for any signs of injury Roman might have missed.
"Help me up," Patricia said, and Zara gently did so, adjusting her into a sitting position on the bed, now facing her.
"I am fine. Thankfully, Roman came in at the right time. I could already see my soul leaving my body," Patricia joked, a light laugh escaping her lips.
But Zara didn’t crack a smile. She just stared, calm but intense, like someone trying to memorize every detail of someone they might lose. Patricia knew that look. That was exactly why she joked, trying to lighten the air. But it clearly didn’t work.
"You are not planning to kill them, are you?" Patricia asked, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the concern in her voice. Honestly, she preferred Zara when she was talkative. Silent, cold Zara was far more dangerous.
"I haven’t decided what tool to use," Zara replied calmly, casually saying it like killing someone was a piece of cake.
Patricia’s heart skipped a beat.
"How about you focus on me?" She said with a weak chuckle. "I need you with me. Twenty-four-seven. Stay close, we can kill them later."
She knew better than to tell Zara not to retaliate, it would only fuel her resolve. So she chose distraction instead. Anything to hold her friend back for now.
"Fine. Until you are healed," Zara agreed at last, and Patricia let out a quiet sigh of relief. It was always easier to talk Zara down when she was calm, not when she was angry.
"Luckily, he said you didn’t bleed, so you will heal soon. You better heal up, it depends on lives," Zara said, getting out of bed and walking over to the desk.
Patricia looked down and noticed she was wearing a fresh gown, guessing it was Roman who had changed her into it. No wonder she was lying on her back when she woke up, he must have done it after she fell asleep. Thinking about it now, the number of times he had changed her clothes was getting a little too frequent. For someone she barely even shared favorite colors with, he had seen her naked more times than she could count. And though she knew she should feel embarrassed, she wasn’t. In fact, she was starting to get used to it.
She was adapting to her new life, which was strange. She was supposed to hate living with him, despise every second spent in his house. But the past few days... they had been different. Things were changing.
He had gone from cold to unexpectedly gentle, not even giving her the time to process it. Was this what Zara once called lovebombing? But didn’t that only count if he loved her from the start? And clearly, that wasn’t the case.
"Hey!" Zara shouted, snapping Patricia out of her thoughts.
She flinched and looked up, sighing with relief when she realized it was just Zara. Her gaze dropped to Zara’s hand, and she muttered a soft "ohh" before taking the glass of water she was being offered.
"Are you... thinking about him?" Zara asked, suspicious as always, her voice laced with mischief.
Patricia choked on the water, coughing and spitting it out.
"Ahh! Ahh! I knew it!" Zara smirked triumphantly, like she had just unearthed treasure.
"That’s not it. I was thinking about a patient in the hospital," Patricia lied, avoiding Zara’s eyes. "I was just wondering if he’s okay now."
"Wow. Such a dedicated doctor," Zara said with a dramatic sigh. "It would be an honor to have Dr. Patricia thinking about me." She placed a hand dramatically on her forehead like one of those musical heroines in a play.
"Stop it," Patricia scolded, rolling her eyes.
"Oh right, you need to clean up. I will call the maids. Let me know when you are done, Princess Patricia," Zara teased, remembering the instructions Roman had left before leaving.
"Zara! You promise, right?" Patricia called out before she could step out, her voice soft but serious.
"I promise," Zara replied, smiling, and that brought a smile to Patricia’s face too.
As she reached the door, Zara turned back and added, "For now," then disappeared through the doorway before Patricia could process the meaning.
Patricia simply smiled and shook her head, not even remotely surprised by Zara’s antics. If the Zara she knew ever changed, that would be the real cause for concern. That bold, unpredictable side of her made her all the more lovable. And though she could be a lot sometimes, Zara always knew her limits, and she always knew when to stop. She would be fine.