Rege did not slow down until he reached the door.
The brass plate reflected the sterile hallway lights.
Dr. Jenkins.
He pushed it open.
Empty.
As expected.
His uncle was not a man who stayed in one place—not when there were patients who needed him. The stillness inside the office felt deliberate, almost untouched.
Rege stepped in and closed the door behind him.
The soft click settled into the silence.
For a moment, he remained standing.
Then he moved.
Measured. Controlled.
He walked toward the desk and took the seat behind it.
The leather gave slightly under his weight.
Stillness followed.
And then—
Her.
Not a memory.
Not distant.
Present.
Maya.
Every detail returned with unsettling clarity.
Her pale skin against the white sheets.
The quiet rise and fall of her chest.
And her eyes—
His jaw tightened slightly.
Too bright.
Too alive.
Too… untouched.
They did not belong to someone who had been that close to breaking.
And yet—
They had been fixed on him.
Watching.
Following.
Absorbing.
His fingers curled faintly against the armrest.
He had felt it.
Every second of it.
Even as he focused on something as simple as feeding her, something as controlled as caring for her—
He had been aware.
Of her gaze.
Of her presence.
Of her.
It had not been enough.
Not for him.
Not even close.
A quiet breath left him.
The thought had come too easily.
Too naturally.
If it meant she would not suffer—
He would take it instead.
His expression hardened.
That was not who he was.
And yet—
There had been no hesitation in the thought.
None.
His gaze lowered briefly before settling again.
When he had sat beside her—
Something had shifted.
Not sharply.
Not violently.
But undeniably.
A stillness.
A quiet settling.
As if something had found its place without asking permission.
His fingers tightened slightly.
That realization did not sit well.
Because it did not feel temporary.
It did not feel like desire.
It felt—
Permanent.
His jaw flexed once.
And then—
The memory shifted.
To something far less controlled.
Her lips.
The way she had licked them—absentmindedly.
Unaware.
Innocent.
His hand rose, dragging slowly through his hair.
That had been the moment everything tilted.
The spoon.
He could still feel it in his grip.
The pressure.
Too much.
If it had been anything else—
It would have broken.
He had been that close.
That close to losing control over something as basic as holding a utensil.
And still—
He had not let it show.
Not to her.
Not even for a second.
Because she was already carrying more than she should.
He would not add to it.
Would not burden her with something she did not understand.
His gaze darkened slightly.
He had memorized everything.
Without trying.
The way her eyes softened when she tasted something sweet.
The quiet curve of her lips when she chewed.
The subtle ease that settled into her expression.
Every reaction.
Every shift.
Stored.
Untouched.
His fingers flexed once against the desk.
And then—
The end.
The part that had demanded more from him than anything else.
Her lips had not been clean.
Despite the way she had tried.
And he had reached for the tissue.
Practical.
Necessary.
Nothing more.
But the moment he touched her—
Everything sharpened.
His senses.
His awareness.
Her warmth.
The softness beneath the barrier of the fabric.
His jaw tightened again.
He had felt everything.
Too clearly.
Too intensely.
His own pulse.
Fast.
Controlled only by force.
And hers—
Steady.
Soft.
Alive.
A breath moved slowly through him.
That had been the moment.
Not when she spoke.
Not when she asked.
When she looked at him.
Those eyes—
Clear.
Focused.
On him.
And then—
She looked away.
His fingers stilled.
That—
That had been worse.
The absence.
The sudden loss of her attention.
It had pulled something from him before he could stop it.
Before he could reason with it.
He had moved without thinking.
Lifted her chin.
Brought her back.
Forced her gaze to meet his again.
Control slipping—
But not gone.
Not yet.
And then—
She closed her eyes.
His breath slowed.
Not tension.
Not temptation.
Trust.
Unquestioning.
Instinctive.
Complete.
She had not flinched.
Had not resisted.
She had simply—
Trusted.
That he would not take more than he should.
That he would not cross a line she had not drawn.
His gaze lowered slightly.
That had been the only reason he stopped.
Not control.
Not discipline.
Her.
Because that trust—
Was not something he would break.
Not now.
Not later.
Not ever.
His hand dragged slowly down his face.
And yet—
He had been close.
Closer than he had ever allowed himself to be to anyone.
The distance between them—
Measured in breaths.
In seconds.
And even then—
He had turned away.
To her ear.
A controlled redirection.
The only option that had not crossed the line.
But even that—
Had not been easy.
Her reaction—
Immediate.
Visible.
That soft flush spreading across her skin.
Unaware of what it did to him.
Unaware of what she was doing—
At all.
Her scent—
Soft. Warm. Too close.
His jaw tightened once more.
Looking at her again—
That had not been an option.
Not if he intended to keep control.
Not if he intended to leave that room without crossing a boundary that could not be undone.
So he had left.
Before he made a mistake.
Before he took something she had not given.
His phone vibrated against the desk.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
He ignored it.
Four.
Five.
A breath.
Then he picked it up.
"I told you I am not available for seven days."
His voice was sharp.
Cold.
Familiar.
"Yes, sir," James replied quickly. "I was calling to check in on Miss Maya and… you."
James faltered on the last word.
A pause.
Subtle.
Barely noticeable.
But enough.
Rege's gaze shifted slightly.
Then stilled.
A quiet exhale.
"Thank you."
Silence followed.
Because that—
Was not something often said.
Not by him.
The call ended.
He placed the phone down with precision.
No hesitation.
No second thought.
But the shift remained.
—
By the time he returned, evening had settled in.
The hospital had quieted.
The urgency of the day replaced by something slower.
More contained.
He had already arranged what was needed.
Foldable beds.
For Tatiana.
For Adela.
Practical.
Necessary.
He knocked once before entering.
The room was dim.
Calm.
His gaze found her immediately.
Maya.
Asleep.
Still.
Breathing evenly.
He paused.
Just briefly.
Then looked toward Adela.
A question—
Unspoken.
She understood.
"She's been sleeping since you left," Adela said softly. "Dr. Jenkins came by. Gave her medication. Said she needed the rest."
A nod.
Subtle.
"Thanks, Adela."
Quiet.
Almost missed.
Tatiana's brow lifted for a fraction of a second.
Then smoothed.
Time passed.
Minutes.
Then more.
The room settled.
Adela slept first.
Tatiana not long after.
Exhaustion had claimed them both.
Rege remained where he was.
Still.
Unmoving.
Then—
He stood.
Walked back toward her.
And took the chair beside her bed.
Close.
But not close enough.
His gaze settled on her again.
Her hair spread across the pillow in soft spirals.
Messy.
Natural.
Untouched.
She looked—
Peaceful.
Too peaceful.
As if nothing in the world could reach her.
As if whatever had nearly taken her—
Had no claim over her anymore.
A quiet breath escaped her.
Soft.
Even.
And then—
A smile.
Small.
Faint.
Unconscious.
But real.
Something in his chest shifted.
Subtle.
Unwelcome.
But there.
His expression didn't change.
But his gaze softened.
Just slightly.
Barely noticeable.
He leaned back into the chair.
Eyes still on her.
Unmoving.
Unwavering.
For now—
This was enough.
Not everything.
Not what he wanted.
But enough.
Because she was here.
Breathing.
Alive.
Safe.
And for a man who had never settled for anything less than certainty—
That fragile, temporary sufficiency—
Was the most dangerous thing of all.
—
Because it meant—
He was already too far gone.