The Edge of Light ✔️

Chapter Eleven

N I K O L A I

"We could go shopping for you today. Would you like that?" I said, cutting off the silence at the dining table. She finally looked up from her plate for the first time since we sat down to eat breakfast. She was still in the pajamas my housekeeper had gotten her and her long hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail.

"That won't be necessary. I have a big wardrobe at home with more clothes than I could wear in this lifetime. I'll have Solange pack them up and send them over." she explained in an even tone. I nodded my head, a little disappointed. I was looking forward to spending some quality time with her. Spoiling her rotten with anything she wanted, then maybe some dinner afterwards.

Suddenly her eyes fluttered shut and a small sneeze ripped out of her. I knitted my brows at that. She had been sniffling and dapping her nose with a napkin since she woke up.

"Do you feel ill?" I asked, putting down my fork to inspect her better. Indeed, her cheeks were rosier than usual and her eyes droopy.

"Hn? No, I just feel a little out of it today." she responded in a hoarse voice. She must've caught a cold. I knew I shouldn't have let her sleep in the guest room. It took forever to heat up, unlike my room which became an oven when the heater was turned on.

I grabbed my phone and sent a message to In-su, telling him to grab medication.

"You should rest." I said and she hummed exhaustedly. She pushed her chair back and went to put away her dishes but I stopped her, doing it myself. Her arms barely worked, she was definitely catching a cold.

"I could've done it mys—" a loud sneeze cut her off. A small whine followed. I pressed my lips in a thin line, feeling myself wanting to smile at her sneeze. I placed the dishes into the sink and went to turn on the cattle to brew water for her. Tea should be good for a cold.

"Let's get you to bed." I muttered and started to walk towards the bedroom. She followed quietly and just as she went to open the guest room door I stopped her.

"Sleep here, it's warmer." I said and opened my own door. She quickly shook her head, ready to refuse but I gave her a stern look which quickly turned down her refusal. She strutted into the dark room and let herself fall into the bed immediately. A small groan escaped her, making my lip twitch upward. I pulled out the duvet from under her and covered her with it.

"In-su is on the way with your medication. I'll bring it to you when he's here." I told her and she responded with a weak hum. I went to close the door, watching as she curled into a ball in my bed. I shouldn't have liked the view as much as I did. I shouldn't have imagined her there, her hair sprawled out on my pillow, naked under me. The thought made me tilt my head back and exhale harshly. I glanced at her one last time before closing the door and walking away.

- - -

When In-su arrived with the medication, I entered the room quietly, not wanting to disturb her if she was asleep. The sight that greeted me made my chest tighten: Elena was curled up under the blankets, but beads of sweat glistened on her forehead, and her breathing was labored, a soft whimper escaping her lips. The room was dark, but I could still see the faint rise and fall of her chest, struggling against whatever illness had claimed her.

I stepped forward, grabbing a damp towel from the nightstand. Without hesitation, I wiped her forehead gently, careful not to wake her too abruptly. "You always have to do things the hard way, don't you?" I muttered under my breath, though my tone lacked the usual coldness I had around her. For some reason, seeing her so vulnerable stirred something within me.

I rested the cool towel on her forehead, and just as I was about to step away, she stirred, her eyelids fluttering weakly. Her voice, though raspy, reached me. "I can... do it... myself..." she murmured, her fingers reaching out shakily for the medication in my hand.

"You're not in any condition to argue," I said flatly, though the edge in my voice was softened by the way I crouched beside her, helping her sit up slightly. She was barely awake, her eyes only half-open, and in her sleepy state, she grabbed the glass of water from my hand.

But as soon as she lifted it, her fingers slipped, spilling water all over the front of her shirt and onto the bed. "Sorry," she whispered, her voice filled with exhaustion. "I got your bed wet..."

"It's just water," I said, dismissing it entirely. "It'll dry."

She blinked a few times, her face flushed with embarrassment. "I can—"

"I know you can do it yourself," I cut her off, my hand steadying the glass of water as I pressed the medication into her palm. "But I'm going to help you anyway. Just take the pills."

She hesitated but eventually swallowed the pills with my assistance, her lips pressing against the rim of the glass as she drank. I could see how hard it was for her to let someone else help her, but at this point, her stubbornness was meaningless. She was too weak to refuse.

As soon as she took the medication, she fell back into the bed, her body sinking into the mattress. Her breathing became steady again, but I stayed beside her for a moment longer than necessary, watching as the lines of tension on her face smoothed out in sleep.

Throughout the night, I found myself checking on her more often than I wanted to admit. Each time I came in, I replaced the towel on her forehead and made sure she was comfortable. I should have been elsewhere, doing anything but this, but something kept me anchored to her side.

- - -

When she woke, the room was already filled with the soft glow of morning light seeping through the curtains. I had been sitting in the chair by the window, watching the city skyline when I heard her stir. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, and her movements sluggish as she slowly pushed herself upright.

I had prepared tea and a bowl of soup earlier, anticipating her waking up soon. "Drink this," I said, standing and approaching her. I placed the cup of tea in front of her, but the way her hands trembled as she reached for it told me she was still far from fully recovered.

"I can do it myself," she said, almost in defiance, though her voice lacked strength. She reached for the spoon, her fingers curling around it, but when she tried to lift it to her mouth, her hand shook so much that a few drops spilled back into the bowl.

I sighed deeply, more amused than irritated. "You're not doing a very good job of convincing me," I muttered, taking the spoon from her. "Eat."

She glared at me, her eyes narrowing in frustration, but her body betrayed her. She was too weak to fight me on this. I brought the spoon to her lips, and after a long pause, she opened her mouth begrudgingly.

Her distaste for the situation was clear as she scowled between each spoonful, her pride taking a hit each time I fed her. "I hate this," she mumbled under her breath, barely loud enough for me to hear.

"I know you do," I said, my tone unreadable. "But you need to eat. I won't let you starve just because you're stubborn."

Her eyes burned with quiet defiance, but there was also something else there. A flicker of something fragile, something deeply rooted in her hatred of this life. It was as though the longer she stayed here, the more parts of herself she was losing. First, her freedom. Now, her autonomy. And yet, as much as she despised me for it, I couldn't find it in me to let her go. Not now. Not ever.

When the bowl was empty, and she had finished the tea, I stood up, collecting the dishes. She looked like she wanted to say something—anything to assert her independence—but instead, she just sighed and laid back down.

Before I left the room, I paused by the door and looked back at her. "Rest," I said. "You'll need your strength."

Her eyes followed me as I walked out, the tension between us palpable. She may have hated every moment of being in my care, but whether she liked it or not, she was mine now. And I would take care of her, no matter how much she resisted.