I should have felt relieved.
Reina was finally being released. She was stable. She was alive. The physicians had prescribed a long and complicated list of do's and don'ts that needed to be followed—don't do anything to cause stress, rest plenty. and pain management. Simple things.
But as I sat next to her, watching the soft and calming rise and fall of her chest, I didn't feel relief.
I felt like I couldn't breathe.
The vivid memory of her suddenly collapsing and falling into my arms has been deeply etched into my mind, leaving a lasting impression that I cannot easily forget. The skull. The way her blood had leaked and soaked into my fingers, its reality and vividness and haunted feeling. The distant sound of the gunfire, the yelling, the overall chaos—each and every one of these things had gradually dispersed and disappeared into the distance in that specific moment. The only thing that I could see then is her.
I had nearly lost her.
I shut my eyes slowly, holding my fingers firmly against my temple as once more, the thought seized my mind with an iron grip. It was not in the agenda that I would feel this specific way.
It is not meant for her.
Not for anyone or any group.
I had worked years ensuring that I never allowed feelings to get in with my decisions. Never let anyone reach out to me. Attachments were vulnerabilities—weak spots waiting to be attacked.
But Reina …
Reina had easily torn down the well-built walls I had put up around myself, without so much as a moment's hesitation. attempting.
And I did not know how to make it stop.
I slowly ran my hand over my face, feeling the texture of my skin, and I stopped to look at her once more. She appeared to peaceful in sleep, her eyebrows a little furrowed as if she were still fighting a battle even in her dreams. The dark circles under her eyes were stark against Her pale complexion was a poignant reminder of the myriads of difficulties and issues she had endured throughout her entire life.
It is a sad reminder of the immense pain she had to bear as a direct consequence of my actions and decisions.
A knot formed and coiled up in my chest.
I had insisted, actually demanded, with a strong feeling of urgency, that she remain at my house, where I might be able to keep her safe. But, obstinate as ever, she had refused.
"You can't keep me under lock and key like some fragile bird Lorenzo" she had said. "I really must go home."
I also felt the strong urge to debate. I wanted to tell her that she was showing some degree of irresponsibility that was concerning. That her house wasn't safe. That she wasn't safe.
But when it actually came down to the point of the finish, I saw that I had essentially let her win.
Indeed, it had turned out to be a blunder.
The moment we stepped into her apartment, I knew for sure that something was wrong. was wrong.
Glass crunched beneath my feet.
The destruction was in every place—broken vases, torn-up cushions, her bed torn to pieces as if one had been looking for something.
Alternatively, one might opt to leave a message.
And then, all of a sudden, we saw the note. She took it, her hands trembling a bit as she read loud.
"Had a lot of fun, but you should take better care of your sister. Don't know how long she will live. Also, let Lorenzo know I miss him. Lol". — Duke.
A seething, slow anger smouldered within me.
That bastard.
Duke was engaged in playing.
Here, he had pushed it to a different level altogether by making it very personal.
Reina sat quietly next to me, saying nothing, yet I could clearly feel her being there. tension, the way her breath came out slower, controlled.
"We need to—"
"You're not going to be staying here."
My tone was more cutting than I meant it to be, but I didn't mind.
She went around to stand in front of me, her mouth opening in slow motion to start an argument, but I did not allow her to proceed.
"I strongly declare, you will not be residing here in this location."
For many years, she just looked at me silently. Her deep, A resolute look, firmly on my own, was seeking out something deep within. And I allowed her to view it.
The fear. The anger. The desperation.
Her face changed, her expression easing ever so slightly, and after what had been a seemingly endless wait like forever, she exhaled. And nodded.
In under an hour, I had it all set. My men tidied up I searched the debris carefully as I prepared a bag with her necessities, not wanting to leave it to someone else to make this serious undertaking a reality. to do it.
The entire time, something inside me twisted.
The reason behind this situation—she has been hurt, her life being at stake—this It was actually my fault.
The reason for which she got involved in such a problematic scenario was solely due to my behaviour.
If only I had acted otherwise. If only I had been able to see or anticipate the consequences.
Duke's actions are indeed more dangerous and effective. If only I had taken the necessary steps to safeguard her properly, in the manner that I absolutely should have done. have—
With a strong will, I clenched my fists and pushed those bothersome thoughts away from my head.
I had previously stood her up. I did not mean to do the same again.
By the time we finally arrived at my home, she was not saying a word. Too silent.
She was sitting on the couch, having one leg stretched out uncertainly, blankly into space. I knew she was completely exhausted. The weight of everything that had occurred was on her shoulders. keeping pace with her.
I wasn't much better.
I sat down right beside her, my hands going behind to rub against my face as I attempted to relax the tension I was experiencing.
"Reina."
She blinked her eyes several times, successfully snapping herself out of whatever whirling thoughts were in her head.
For a while, we just didn't say anything.
And then she proceeded and did something that completely took me by surprise.
She smiled. It was an insubstantial presence, a presence that was hardly there at all, yet in its insubstantiality, it was certainly real.
"You're really not very good at taking care of other people's needs and welfare," she murmured, her voice hoarse from exhaustion.
I burst out laughing, my head bobbing up and down with incredulity. "And you're not very good at allowing other individuals to provide support or assistance for your own benefit."
Her expression relaxed a bit. A peculiar sense of warmth began to travel across the centre of my chest. I didn't know when it had begun—this feeling, this thing between us.
At first, it had been frustration. Irritation. The constant a struggle between two persons who were too stubborn and not willing to yield or compromise on their stands.
But somewhere along the line, there had been a change.
She is no longer just another case.
She is not some problem to be solved or dealt with.
She is Reina.
The women who have entered my life, with her own very distinct passion and fervour that ran through her veins like an ardent and unstoppable fire and strenuously refused to let me leave her out of my life. The woman who had faced death squarely and unflinchingly without hesitation. The woman who, in spite of everything, still regarded me like I had worth and worthiness in my own right.
And it scared the hell out of me.
Because I am not supposed to feel this way. I really am not supposed to care about this case at all. Not at all like this. Not in the sense of making my heart beat a little quicker than it normally does. when she turned her gaze towards me and looked at me with her eyes. Not only did that make my heart heavy and tight every single time I thought about losing her. And definitely not one that would ever lead me to want to be the one who initiates going out. brush my fingers against her fingers, and just hold on. I gritted my teeth and tried to avoid looking. "You need to rest," I told her, standing. "I'll tell someone to bring your things up for you." Reina shifted position and leaned her head slightly to one side, looking at me with a critical interest in the manner in which made me feel like she was looking right through me. She just kept quiet. But when I turned away to go, I heard her whisper, hardly at all bearable "Thank you, Lorenzo." I halted. My tightly curled fingers remained at my side, half-relaxed but tense. And then, without even a look behind, I departed.
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