Blanche's POV
Vincent sat at the bed's edge, his entire frame going rigid as I spoke. Even he could sense my meaning—I wanted him gone.
I watched him process this, seeing the realization dawn that he didn't belong here anymore.
But Vincent wasn't backing down. His frown deepened as he said, "I'm not busy. I'll stay with you. You're sick—I can't just abandon you."
I met his gaze, keeping my expression neutral, my tone soft but distant. "Go home. Amara's a girl. She'll handle caring for me better."
His frown turned into a scowl as he protested, "But last night you said you would—"
He wanted to remind me that I'd opened my heart to him—that just last night, I'd agreed to let him stay close.
Before he could finish, I gently interrupted. "I had a fever last night, wasn't thinking clearly. Please, Mr. Aarav, don't read too much into it."
