Inessa

10

Inessa

I felt weak. The entire day had passed in a blur, and I hadn't moved from my bed since Mr. Rossi left in the morning. Every limb in my body ached, but the worst part was the emptiness in my stomach. I hadn't eaten anything. I simply had no energy to get up and cook, and to make matters worse, my fridge was nearly empty. Just a lone carton of milk sat inside.

I sighed as my stomach growled in protest. It was nearly 5:30 in the evening. While leaving, Mr. Rossi had said he would come back, but I wasn’t sure if he truly meant it. Would a man as powerful as him really check up on someone like me—a mere housekeeper? My doubts were shattered the moment I heard a knock at the door.

Dragging myself up, I made my way to the door, and as soon as I opened it, I froze. There he stood, dressed in a crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his expression unreadable. In one hand, he carried a bag, and in the other, a bouquet of white roses.

"Can I come in?" His deep voice broke me from my thoughts.

I blinked and stepped aside. "Of course, please."

He stepped in, closing the door behind him. Before I could even fully process his presence, he gently guided me toward the couch. "Don't stand too much. You should be resting."

I sat down as he placed the bouquet in my lap. "These are for you."

I smiled, bringing the roses to my nose, inhaling their delicate fragrance. It had been so long since anyone had given me flowers. "Thank you," I said softly.

He studied me carefully. "How are you feeling now?"

"Better," I replied, but as if to contradict me, my stomach let out a loud growl. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

He raised a brow. "I doubt that, Miss Inessa. Did you have lunch?"

I looked down, biting my lip. "No."

His jaw clenched. "You shouldn't be skipping meals, especially when your body needs strength to heal. Here." He lifted the bag. "I brought dinner. Eat, and then take your medicine."

I expected him to leave after that, but as he turned toward the door, something inside me resisted. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Stay a little longer."

He paused. For a moment, he didn’t move, and I thought he might refuse. But then his shoulders relaxed, and he turned back toward me, his expression softer than before. Without a word, he walked into the kitchen, retrieved two plates, and sat down beside me.

"Have dinner with me," I added quickly. "I won’t be able to finish this alone."

He hesitated for a second before nodding. "Alright."

We ate in silence, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was something soothing about his presence, a sense of quiet security I had not felt in a long time.

After finishing the meal, he set his plate aside. "I filled your fridge with groceries, so next time, don’t skip meals."

My heart stilled.

Why was he doing all this? Why did he care? No one had ever cared for me like this.

He glanced at the clock. "It’s getting late. I should leave."