The Veiled Hearts

🌹Silent Battles🔪

I found myself sitting on him, his gaze unwavering, locked onto mine. His eyes drifted to the tears on my face, then to the wound on my neck, the one I got after that brutal fight with those goons in the abandoned storage house.

His grip on my hands, which he had been holding behind him, loosened as he brought them forward, his eyes fixed on the blood staining my fingers. That intense yet gentle gaze of his made me look away, and as I did, my eyes fell on my shirt, noticing that two buttons were undone.Panic surged through me, and I snapped at him, "Did you open them?"

He didn't flinch, just reached out to caress my face with his hands , his touch soft as he hushed me. "Shhhh... You're still hurt, and you were struggling to breathe. That's the only reason I unbuttoned them. I didn't look at anything else, just the wound on your neck and the harm you've inflicted on yourself."

I didn't respond to his explanation, anger and embarrassment mingling in my chest. I pulled my hands away from his, trying to regain some control over the situation. He didn't stop me, just smiled softly, as if he understood exactly what I was feeling."Let's take care of your wounds," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "But I have to ask-do you want me to do it in this position, or would you prefer another one?"

For a moment, his words didn't make sense, but then he gestured downward, drawing my attention to the fact that I was still sitting on him. Heat rushed to my face, and I scrambled off him, feeling a mix of mortification and frustration. I headed toward the door, wanting to escape this awkwardness, but then I remembered-he must have locked it again.

I turned back to see him holding the wet towel and first aid kit, his eyes never leaving mine. There was something so calm and assured in his expression as he said, "Very good, you're starting to know me. Now, come sit next to me on the bed. I'd call a doctor, but I know you wouldn't want to reveal yourself."

His understanding of my situation, of my need for secrecy, caught me off guard. Despite everything, despite my instinct to push him away, I found myself slowly moving back towards the bed, drawn in by the care and concern in his voice. There was something about the way he handled the situation, with a mix of confidence and tenderness, that made it hard to refuse. I didn't know why I trusted him, why I was letting him get close to me like this,but I knew I had to take care of my wounds.