"Welcome home. We've missed you," I say with a snicker, relishing the sight of the strongest woman I've ever known crumbling before me, her once formidable presence reduced to nothing but a fragile shell.
Perhaps I'm still a tad bitter about being left behind by her.
Aren is already by her side, his hands gently cradling her head, his movements urgent as he shakes her slightly, trying to coax her back to consciousness. But Idalia remains unresponsive, lost in the depths of unconsciousness.
My own mind struggles to comprehend the situation, but my tongue feels heavy and sluggish, refusing to form the words that hover on the tip of my tongue. All I can do is stare, a silent witness to the unfolding scene before me.
I recognized the potential for their return at any moment, but I let my guard down. Yet, inevitably, my past intersects with the present, catching us in a compromising position: Aren's pants unbuckled, and me, on my knees before him. It's embarrassing, to say the least. I quickly wipe my hand on my pants.
Their eyes bore into mine, expectation hanging heavy in the air, waiting for some explanation, some justification. But I find myself at a loss for words, my mind a blank canvas devoid of coherent thoughts. I had assumed I would have something to say by now, some semblance of an excuse or explanation, but I was sorely mistaken.
Cierien's mouth hangs agape, frozen in disbelief since the moment he opened the door and caught sight of the compromising scene. Wrath's gaze remains unyielding, his eyes ablaze with a simmering fury that threatens to consume everything in its path. As for Sophie, her reaction remains an enigma to me- a silent witness to the chaos unfolding before her, her thoughts concealed behind a mask of inscrutable composure.
Sophie's demeanor betrays neither excitement nor dismay at my presence. Instead, her expression borders on indifference, as if the spectacle before her fails to stir any emotion within her. Taking the first step, she bypasses me completely, her focus directed solely on Idalia's prone form.
With a practiced calmness, she drops beside Idalia, her eyes sweeping over her unconscious figure, a silent assessment of her well-being. Then, without a word, her gaze shifts to me, a silent question lurking within her gaze.
"Mind showing us to her room?" Sophie's voice breaks the silence, her tone devoid of any discernible emotion.
Definitely not excited to see me.
The indifference in her voice stings, a stark reminder of the divide that has grown between us. I can't help but scoff in disbelief at her request.
"That's what you're going with?" I retort, unable to contain the incredulity in my voice. It's true, I've been less than stellar in my behavior, and she has every right to be angry. But her apparent disregard for the situation, feigning concern for someone she clearly doesn't care about, catches me off guard. It's not the reaction I anticipated.
"I'm sorry, would you like me to drop to my knees and thank you for finally gracing us with your presence... after nearly two fucking years of thinking you were dead?" Sophie's words slice through the air, sharp and unforgiving.
I open my mouth to respond, to offer some semblance of an explanation, but she cuts me off with a bitter reminder. "Two years," she repeats, her voice rising with each syllable.
Aren flinches at her raised voice, his eyes darting to mine for guidance. I shake my head, silently accepting the repercussions of my absence, knowing that I deserve whatever consequences are to come.
"You've been alive for two years, and you haven't thought to seek me out? Hell, just a single word- a simple I'm okay would have sufficed," Sophie grits out, stepping into my space with a fury that's almost palpable.
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YOU ARE READING
Patient B-2
RomanceAvalyn has always been good at running; it's what she does best. But when fate offers her a chance to break free from the shackles of her past, she doesn't just sprint away, she charges headlong into the unknown, ready to face whatever challenges aw...