Chapter17: Someone Cares for Me, Do You Have Anyone?
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Golden morning light poured through the lace curtains, scattering tiny sparkles across the floating dust in the air. The distant chirping of birds from the garden outside the window sounded like a gentle musical score, a melody of serene tranquility. Yet for me… this morning was far from peaceful.
My eyelids were heavy, pressed tight by the throbbing at my temples. My whole body ached, every arm and leg screaming from some invisible beating sustained throughout the night. Every nerve and fiber sent a unified signal—I was not well.
A shiver of coolness brushed lightly across my forehead. My fingers tingled as if someone had placed their cold hands gently against my skin, checking my temperature, a touch so soft it almost felt like a whisper of care.
I slowly forced my eyes open. The first thing I saw was P'Theer's sharp, chiseled face hovering close. His gaze, normally as calm and still as a placid lake, now brimmed with visible worry. His thin lips held the faintest shadow of a smile, but it could not mask the concern shining in his eyes.
"Awake already?" His voice, usually deep and firm, softened to a low, almost whispered tone.
"Mm…" I croaked, my voice raw and nearly swallowed by the quiet.
His expression shifted immediately, remorse flooding his eyes. He snapped his fingers lightly against his forehead, a small, habitual gesture of self-reproach, then gently slipped his hands beneath my arms, lifting me with care. His touch was steady yet gentle, as if I were fragile crystal, liable to shatter with the slightest misstep.
"Sit up first… drink some water." He placed the glass at my lips, tilting it slowly so I could sip at my own pace. It felt like the meticulous care one gives a small child, attending to every detail.
Once I finished, he set the glass aside and brought another bowl forward. The warm, savory aroma of rice porridge (congee) wafted to my nose. I blinked in mild astonishment, never having imagined this cool, indifferent person would prepare something himself.
"I made some porridge for you. Eat a little."
Before I could respond, he scooped a spoonful, blew lightly to let the steam fade, and gently guided it to my mouth.
"Open your mouth," his deep voice carried a soft command, but tender enough to make me comply without resistance.
I obeyed, swallowing, and a small smile escaped despite the soreness in my throat. Ordinary porridge, yet the taste carried warmth far beyond flavor—it was the care he placed into each spoonful.
He continued to feed me patiently, one spoon at a time, until the bowl was empty. Then he reached for a clean cloth, lightly wiping the corners of my mouth with the same delicate attention, as if I were the most precious object in the world.
Next, he scooped me gently into his arms. Despite his imposing frame, I felt almost weightless in his hold. He walked silently to the bathroom, where the morning light from the large mirror reflected our intertwined figures.
He carefully set me on the wooden chair by the counter, then handed me a toothbrush, preloaded with toothpaste.
"Open your mouth, I'll brush for you."
He bent to face me directly. The intensity in his dark eyes—usually distant—was now unwavering and tender. His hand guided the brush slowly across my teeth, while the other cupped my chin lightly, ensuring I wouldn't pull away.
In the quiet bathroom, only the sound of bristles against teeth and our measured breathing filled the space.
In the mirror, I saw my own pale, sickly reflection. But in P'Theer's eyes was only concern, a level of care I had never experienced before. I could say nothing, only remain still and let him care for me completely.
After brushing, he carried me back to bed. The crisp, cool sheets made me curl up instinctively.
"Cold?" His low voice was brief but full of worry.
I nodded slightly, reaching for his arm, pulling him close, hugging him like the warmest pillow I could imagine.
"Mm… hug me," I mumbled.
He paused for a moment. His sharp, usually icy gaze softened, like melting snow in the sunlight. Slowly, he lay down beside me, pulling me into a tight embrace. His broad chest became the safe haven I had longed for.
"You clingy little thing…" he murmured lowly, yet every word echoed clear in my ears. His fingers brushed the strands of hair falling over my face with gentle care.
I buried my face into his chest, whining like a child. "I'm hurt… I'm sick, and I want ice cream too."
(Ice cream in this era was rare because most countries didn't produce it locally. Only the wealthy, nobility, or those with means could afford it, often imported from foreign lands.)
"What kind of ice cream… you're sick and still want it?" His brows furrowed sharply, tone intensifying with a trace of panic that my condition might worsen.
"I just want it…" I pouted, still clinging to his sleeve.
He let out a long, weary sigh, but then bent down to place a gentle kiss on my forehead instead of answering.
"Hang in there, my dear… once you get better, I'll get you everything you want."
I looked at him with pleading eyes, a few tears glistening from fever and exhaustion.
"And what if I die before then?" I whispered.
The moment I said that, his face changed instantly. The calm I had always known was replaced by tension. His sharp eyes trembled, as if my words were a knife slicing deep into his heart.
"Don't say such nonsense again," his voice quivered unnaturally.
He tightened his embrace, almost swallowing me into his broad chest. His angular face pressed against the nape of my neck, his warm breath searing against my skin.
"I won't let you go anywhere… no matter how sick, whiny, or clingy you are… I'll stay right here, understand?" His voice carried a stubborn determination, almost like a solemn vow.
I remained silent, only lifting my hand to stroke his hair lightly, trying to comfort him in return. I couldn't help but smirk quietly at the sight of this normally cold, distant person showing fear at my words.
"Then hold me all day, okay? Don't let go," I murmured drowsily.
He lifted his gaze to meet mine. Those sharp, ice-like eyes now softened with a rare gentleness.
"Of course… all day, all night, forever if you want."
He continued attending to me: wiping the sweat from my forehead, feeding me water, stroking my hair—like caring for a small child, careful not to let me out of his sight.
I nestled into the familiar embrace, feeling warmth and safety, though my body still ached from fever. Every movement was a struggle. I coughed softly from my sore throat, and even the smallest shift to find a comfortable position made him startle slightly. His large hands tightened around me, and he bent down to whisper in my ear with a deep, concerned voice:
"Don't move too much… I won't forgive you if you hurt yourself again."
I tried to smile, but my dry lips and burning eyes betrayed my weakness. I looked up at him. His dark brows knitted in concern, yet in those sharp eyes shone a gentle light that seemed to melt the pain in my heart. The mix of physical pain and emotional vulnerability made me break down; tears streamed freely as I whimpered softly.
"Don't leave me…" I sobbed, voice trembling, face wet with tears and fevered sweat, my small hands clutching his shirt tightly.
He shivered slightly but didn't pull away. Instead, he drew me closer into his embrace, pressing me fully against his broad chest. His large hands traced my back gently, as if trying to soothe both my aching body and fragile mind.
"I'll never… I'll never leave you… no matter what happens." His voice was strong yet warm, a presence I could feel.
I lifted my face to meet his gaze. His intensity seemed to ease the fear in my heart, but the tenderness in his eyes made me sob even harder. I hastily wiped my tears and buried my face into his shoulder.
"I… I'm not going anywhere… not anywhere at all."
He listened silently to my sobs, holding my hand as though he feared I might vanish. His breathing was slow and steady, yet quivered slightly under the tension.
"Do you hear me? No one can take you from me… understand?"
I nodded, wrapping my arms around his neck even tighter, burying my face into his shoulder. My other hand still clutched his shirt, as if anchoring myself to him forever.
"I want you close like this… every day, P'Theer."
He paused, then smiled softly, drawing me even closer. The warmth and stability of his arms made me feel the safest and most peaceful I ever had.
"Of course… every day… whenever you need… I'll be right here. I won't go anywhere."
I laughed softly, pressing my face against his chest. My hands still clutched his shirt, feeling his hot breath mingle with my gradually subsiding sobs. His warmth became the only thing I needed.
We stayed like that all night. I drifted in and out of sleep, still clutching him tightly, afraid that even a blink might make him disappear. He let me stay nestled in his arms, letting my sobs quiet down slowly, while his heart seemed to warm in a strange, comforting rhythm.
By the time morning light poured through the window, I was still curled up in his embrace, holding his hand tightly. My body had a mild fever, but my heart was full of warmth and peace, beyond any thought of illness.
P'Theer slowly opened his eyes. The gaze that had always seemed cold and distant now brimmed with concern. His hand rose to gently stroke my hair, and he whispered in his deep, low voice,
"Awake… don't move too much… are you in pain?"
I tried to smile, but my voice came out hoarse from the lingering soreness in my throat.
"I… still feel unwell… but it's okay."
He lowered himself to sit at the edge of the bed. His tall, strong frame was imposing, yet every motion he made was soft, considerate. His large hand traced gentle circles on my back as he bent over to look at me with eyes that were intense, yet filled with love.
"Last night… I realized… if anything had happened to you… I don't think I could've survived."
I gave a faint smile and pressed my face into his shoulder.
"I'm here… not going anywhere… don't worry."
He paused briefly, then shook his head with a small sigh, releasing a softer tone.
"You little cheat… making my heart race like this again."
His hand moved slowly to my face, wiping away sweat and damp strands of hair from the night before. I tried to move, but he hugged me tighter.
"Don't move too much… I don't want you to hurt yourself." His whisper was firm, yet suffused with gentle care.
I feigned a pouty voice, teasing,
"But I want to get up… go find something to eat."
He frowned slightly but continued to stroke my back gently.
"You can't eat yet… you need to rest here."
I smiled wryly and raised my hand to touch his cheek softly.
"Then… P'Theer… you have to take care of me like this every day, okay?"
He flinched slightly, then leaned down, whispering almost inaudibly,
"Every day… every moment… I promise."
I pressed myself closer into his chest, clutching his shirt so tightly he could hardly move. He smiled faintly, leaning down to kiss my forehead again. His embrace tightened, and his large hands stroked my head gently. The warmth of his body made me forget my sickness for a fleeting moment.
"I…" I tried to speak, but my voice was hoarse, barely audible.
"What is it… speak… I'm right here."
"I… want to stay like this… every day."
P'Theer laughed softly, a deep resonance in his chest. His tall figure leaned down to kiss my forehead once more.
"Hmph."
I closed my eyes, nuzzling my face into him again, feeling his heartbeat racing alongside mine. His large hand held mine tightly, communicating everything without a single word.
By the third day of recovery, the morning sunlight poured through the window, filling the room with freshness and clarity. The fever that had plagued me had finally subsided, and the pain that had lingered was greatly diminished.
"You're fully recovered, right?" P'Theer asked as he tidied up around the room, his face clearly relieved.
"Yes… I'm better now."
I glanced around the room where I had stayed for three days. Everything was in order, neat and tidy as always. The room had been a cocoon of warmth and attentive care during my stay, and now, leaving it stirred a strange feeling of attachment.
"Ready to go?" he said, walking to lead the way. I followed silently.
P'Theer's car was parked outside my house. As the engine stopped, he turned to me, his gaze calm yet filled with warmth.
"Take care of yourself. If you feel unwell again, let me know."
I nodded, understanding.
"Thank you so much, P'Theer, for taking care of me."
I opened the car door and stepped out. Glancing back, I saw P'Theer driving away, the car disappearing from sight. A wave of relief washed over me, mingled with a subtle emptiness. I thought about the three days filled with his care, his quiet attentiveness replacing the usual silence with warmth.
I stepped quietly into the house, reflecting on his words before driving away,
"Take care of yourself."
I knew life would return to its normal rhythm now, yet something inside me had irrevocably changed during those three days.