36. Good Girl

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As you step into the penthouse being back from the hospital, the familiar surroundings bring a sense of relief. You begin climbing the stairs to reach your room, with Taehyung just behind, carrying your medical bag. But as you take the first step, a sudden wave of dizziness rushes over you, and your breath hitches. Before you can grab onto anything, the world fades to black. In the hazy moments that follow, you vaguely feel yourself in someone’s arms—Taehyung’s, perhaps.

When you open your eyes, you’re greeted by an unfamiliar ceiling. Blinking in confusion, you realize you’re lying in a different room, and Taehyung is sitting at the edge of the bed, holding a glass of water. He helps you sit up, propping you against pillows before handing you the glass, which you gratefully gulp down.

“This… isn’t my room,” you murmur, still disoriented.

“It is,” he replies with a calm but firm tone. “From now on.”

You bring a hand to your head, wincing slightly. “Did I… just faint downstairs?” you ask. He nods, and a question follows before you can stop yourself. “Then why did you carry me to your room?”

He raises an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering.

Because it’s the best place for me to take care of your health.

You blink, taken aback, an “O” shape forming on your lips in surprise. Before you can say more, you get up, intending to head to your room for a shower and change of clothes. But as you reach the door, his hand gently stops you by the wrist.

“I was just going to shower,” you explain, gesturing toward your room. “My clothes are still there.”

“Your clothes are in my walk-in closet,” he answers, his tone matter-of-fact. “Anna moved them here for you.”

Silently, you walk toward his closet, gather a change of clothes, and make your way to the bathroom. As you set your things down, you hear the bathroom door open again. You turn to see Taehyung stepping inside with some clothes of his own. He sighs softly and hands you his clothes.

"Do you think you can manage this on your own?” he asks, folding his arms across his chest in a manner that’s challenging.

The realization hits you like a wave, widening your eyes. Your hands, wrapped tightly in gauze, make it nearly impossible to manage the simplest tasks. There’s no way you can remove the dress on your own, much less take a shower. Your mother had helped you put it on at the hospital, but now, alone with him, you feel helpless. You curse under your breath, mentally questioning the decision to stay at the penthouse.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly, breaking your thoughts.

You nod, attempting to appear calm but a whole zoo is dancing in your stomach.

"Are you okay, if I help you..."

When he offers to help, his gaze sincere, you swallow, trying to hide the nervousness pounding in your chest.

“Okay,” you reply, keeping your tone casual. “Can you help me with the zipper?”

He steps closer, his fingers gently pulling down the zipper on your back. His presence is warm, his breath brushing against your cheek as he leans in. The quiet proximity makes your heart race. He murmurs, “Don’t you think this has become my responsibility now?”

“What?” you ask, furrowing your brows in confusion.

“Your zipper,” he answers with a playful glint in his eyes. “This isn’t the first time...  did this even before we were married.”

Memories flood your mind, making your face flush as you recall the times he had either helped you with pulling the zipper up or down.

As he slides the dress down from your shoulders, leaving you in your underwear, he takes a quick yet complete glance before averting his eyes. His heart was hammering so fast in his chest but was able to mask his emotions...as always.

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