"What's happened?" Marshal stepped forward slowly, while behind him, Donovan could only gape, bewildered at how Marshal had ended up in a flat this shabby.
"Bloody hell…" Donovan muttered under his breath as he trailed after Marshal inside.
"Mum, what's wrong with Selena?" Marshal moved closer, but Marcy quickly pulled him back, guiding him to sit opposite Selena.
"Calm her down first—I'll get a few things ready," said Marcy. "She's been like this ever since I found her on the side of the road, all curled up on her own. I've no idea what's happened—she won't answer a single question."
Marshal brushed aside Selena's fringe, which was hiding her pale face. "Selena… what's happened?"
Instead of answering Marshal's question, Selena clung to his neck, holding him as tightly as she could, her body shaking with muffled sobs against his shoulder. Marshal wrapped his arms around her, feeling her tremble violently in his embrace. Her quiet weeping was stifled against him, but it was enough to make his own breath grow heavy. Gently, he stroked her hair, trying to offer a calm he didn't fully possess himself.
As he tilted his head to soothe her, his gaze caught on the fresh scrape along her forehead—an angry red mark stretching across her right temple. Her hands, too—her palms and wrists—bore raw scratches, as if she'd been dragged or fallen. Marshal's brow furrowed, forcing back the surge of fury tightening in his chest. Silently, he pieced it together: she might have suffered another round of abuse at the hands of her parents.
But now wasn't the time for questions. Not yet.
"Shh… it's alright, I've got you," he murmured softly, trying to steady her. "You don't have to say anything yet, Sel. You're safe now, understand? You're safe…"
Selena's sobs continued, but her grip on him loosened slightly, as if her body was slowly beginning to believe she wasn't alone anymore.
Donovan stood by the door, saying nothing. His expression was serious, eyes laced with concern. A moment later, Marcy returned to the room with a glass of water and a small towel in hand.
"Let her rest a bit, Marshal," she said softly. "Stay here with her, alright?"
Marshal gave a quiet nod, still holding Selena close as she slowly calmed in his arms. Gently, he eased her back just enough to see her face clearly, wiping away the lingering tears on her cheeks.
"Let me tend to those scrapes, yeah?" he murmured, as if speaking to something fragile that might shatter at the slightest touch.
Without a word, Marcy handed him the first aid kit she'd brought earlier. Marshal accepted it with a grateful nod, opening it carefully and retrieving some cotton and antiseptic. His eyes fell on the cut on Selena's forehead, then the grazes on her hands—and his chest tightened, like someone had reached in and twisted his heart.
Donovan, still by the door, finally stepped forward and sat beside Marshal, leaning in slightly to get a better look. There were no jokes this time, no sarcasm—just quiet concern.
"I'll hold her hand, so she doesn't flinch," Donovan whispered, his tone unusually gentle.
Marshal gave a faint nod and began to clean the wound on Selena's forehead with utmost care. She winced now and then, but said nothing. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, as though her mind were still trapped somewhere far beyond that small, crumbling room.
"You don't have to say anything until you're ready," Marshal said softly, his voice barely more than a prayer. "But from now on, you won't be alone. I promise. As for the things you wanted to collect from your parents' house—forget about them. If I had the money, I'd buy you new ones."
"But I was saving up to buy them," Selena whispered.
"Not if it costs you like this, Sel. Just breathe, alright? I'll do everything I can for you—one day, I'll make it up to you." Marshal replied gently, before placing a plaster on her forehead.
Marcy rose quietly and disappeared into the small, worn kitchen of the flat. Sensing the tension lingering in the air, Donovan stood as well and muttered, "Best if I leave you two to it for a bit. I'll go have a word with your mum, Marshal."
"Just don't go dragging her into any unnecessary gossip," Marshal said with a faint sigh, returning his attention to the grazes on Selena's palm—now red and beginning to dry.
He gently dabbed the wound with a soft, damp towel, then applied ointment with care. The air around them felt heavy with quiet. Not an uncomfortable silence, but something tender—fragile. As he wrapped the bandage around her hand, only the sound of their breathing and the ticking of the wall clock filled the room.
Suddenly, Selena whispered, barely audible, "I'm sorry… I—I've made everything so complicated for you. I know this is all such a weight to carry, and I just…"
"Sel," Marshal interrupted gently, without looking up right away. He focused on securing the final loop of bandage, tying a neat knot. "This isn't a burden to me."
Then he looked up, meeting her tear-filled eyes with a steady gaze. "Listen… I'm doing this not because I have to, but because I want to. Because of you—and our baby."
Selena's eyes widened slightly, her bandaged hand moving carefully to intertwine with his fingers.
Marshal lowered his head and placed a tender kiss on the back of her hand. "You're not a burden, Selena. You're my reason now. No matter how rough things have been between us… I want this to work. I want to be a good husband—and a good father."
Just then, Selena's stomach let out a loud growl. Marshal blinked, then let out a soft laugh.
"You're hungry, aren't you? Don't worry—I'll make you something to eat—" Marshal had barely begun to rise when Marcy emerged from the kitchen, followed by Donovan carrying a tray stacked with plates of food.
"Mum, did you—?"
Before Marshal could finish his question, Marcy cut in. "Save your questions, Marshal. Let's enjoy the meal before it goes cold and loses its charm."
Marshal shook his head in disbelief. "You prepared all this?"
"I prepared everything, Marshal." Marcy paused, her gaze drifting to a foil-covered dish beside her. "Selena, I heard you're quite fond of Yorkshire pudding. I made it especially for you, love."
"T-that's far too generous, Ma'am," Selena replied awkwardly, lowering her gaze.
Marcy's proud smile faltered. She set the dish down on the table with a bit more force than necessary. The warmth in her eyes dimmed ever so slightly, though she masked it as best she could.
"'Ma'am', is it?" Marcy repeated quietly, her eyes fixed on Selena. "I'd have thought… after everything, you might call me 'Mum' or at least 'Mother-in-law'—not like I'm some stranger passing through your life."
Selena stiffened. She glanced up slowly, her face flushed with guilt. "I… I didn't mean to be disrespectful. I'm just… not used to it. But I'll try, Mum."
Marshal stepped in quickly, hoping to ease the tension. "Mum, she needs time. She's been through a lot. Just give her a bit of space, yeah?"
Donovan, who'd been quiet until now, added with a cheeky grin, "Honestly, I reckon she'll start calling you 'Mum' the moment she tastes that pudding—if it's as good as you say."
A light chuckle passed around the room, even from Marcy, who finally let out a small, reluctant smile and gave a subtle nod.
"Alright then. But just this once," she said as she joined them on the floor. "Next time, don't make me feel like the mother of an uninvited guest, sweetheart."
Selena blushed, though this time with a little more ease. "Thank you… Mum."
Marcy finally smiled, warm and wide. "Now that's more like it. Oh, Donovan—would you be a dear and bring my suitcase in from the boot, please?"
Donovan blinked. "Wait—suitcase?"