Chapter 45 A Fragile Interval
Roman’s hands curled into fists at his sides.
His patience snapped.
“Why the fuck did you have to say that name?” he hissed through clenched teeth, eyes burning.
Theon lifted both hands slightly in a defensive gesture. “Maybe giving me a heads up would have been better.”
He glanced at Evelyn on the bed, then back at Roman.
“I came back to the country as fast as I could because I was told your symptoms were acting up again,” he said, then paused, picking up his tools. “But who knew…”
Theon took a breath and spoke like a doctor again. “Let’s get her out of this hospital ward into a more private, cozy environment before she wakes up. We can’t stimulate her further.”
Roman dragged a hand down his face, forcing his rage back into his bones. He pressed his palm to his forehead like his skull was splitting.
“Why the fuck are we even in a hospital ward?” he snapped, voice rough with pain. “Didn’t I rebuild this damn hospital just to get a private room?”
His knees wobbled. He collapsed onto the chair beside the bed, breathing hard.
Theon’s eyes flickered with worry. “Rome. Calm down.”
At that moment, the door opened, and a team of specialists rushed in, their faces pale, beads of cold sweat visible on their brows. They trembled slightly under Theon’s icy glare.
He looked at them with tired, cold eyes. Dark circles sat under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days.
“This should not repeat itself,” he warned coldly.
The doctors and nurses immediately scrambled, hands moving fast. Within minutes, they wheeled Evelyn out carefully—then moved Roman too, because he looked like he might pass out again.
\---
Hours Later
Roman opened his eyes slowly.
His vision cleared bit by bit.
The first thing he remembered was Evelyn collapsing.
He bolted upright, ignoring the immediate rush of dizziness that threatened to black out his vision. Gritting his teeth, he waited for the room to stop spinning. He winced, breathing through it.
Then he scanned the room slowly.
He was no longer in a hospital room. He was in one of his private rooms. It was a large, clean bedroom. With warm lighting, and muted colors.
No staff. No noise.
Roman’s frown deepened.
He looked down and saw an IV line connected to his arm.
Irritated, he ripped it off without thinking and stood up, his body swaying in protest.
The door opened. Theon walked in, looking refreshed in a light blue shirt and grey pants, his light blonde hair damp. He looked more like a model than a doctor. A faint, amused smile touched his lips as he saw Roman struggling to stay upright.
“Always have the habit of ripping IV needles off.”
Roman staggered back onto the bed, eyes cold. “Where’s Evelyn?”
Theon walked to the water dispenser, poured himself a glass, and drank slowly like he had all the time in the world.
Roman’s jaw tightened. “The fuck—tell me where she is, goddamn it!”
Theon set the cup down. “She’s fine. You don’t have to worry about her. I kept her in a different environment.”
“Not worry?” Roman snapped. “Stop keeping me in suspense and give me a fucking full report!”
Theon walked closer and sat in a chair like he owned the room. “Roman. Sit back before you make my job harder than it already is.”
Roman remained standing, his jaw clenched. “Talk.”
Theon sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You lost consciousness because your system reacted again. Same pattern as before.”
Roman’s eyes darkened. “Because of what this time.”
“The compound in your body isn’t dormant,” Theon said calmly. “It never fully is. It reacts to spikes—especially emotional ones.”
Roman scoffed softly.
Theon continued slowly. “Any strong, intense emotional spike triggers the same cascade. Your nervous system overreacts, your vascular pressure drops, and you black out before your body can compensate.”
Theon studied him. “Did something provoke you? Emotionally?”
Roman stiffened for a moment. His jaw clenched harder.
Theon’s gaze sharpened. “Rom—.”
“I said nothing,” Roman snapped.
That answer was enough.
Theon sighed. “You know better than anyone that you can’t afford to let those emotions escalate. Every time you do, the reaction becomes more aggressive.”
Roman’s voice dropped low. “You think I don’t know that?”
“I think you’re forgetting,” Theon said evenly, “that your body doesn’t distinguish between justified anger and reckless impulse. It only reacts.”
Roman closed his eyes briefly.
“And if it keeps happening?” he asked quietly.
Theon hesitated just a bit too long. “Then recovery takes longer. Episodes become closer together.”
Roman’s eyes turned cold again. “So what. I’m supposed to be a robot? To feel nothing?”
“I’m saying you need control,” Theon replied. “Whatever sets you off—avoid it. Because next time, you may not wake up this fast.”
Silence.
“And Evelyn?” Roman asked again, voice rough.
Theon’s tone softened slightly. “She only experienced an acute stress response. Likely sensory overload.”
Roman narrowed his eyes. “From what?”
“Environment. Smell. Sound,” Theon said, then paused. “And possibly a visual trigger.”
Roman froze.
Theon added quickly, like he knew where Roman’s mind went. “She doesn’t remember anything. But the body remembers patterns the mind doesn’t. That’s all.”
Roman looked away, knuckles whitening.
“She fainted because her nervous system reacted before her conscious mind could catch up,” Theon continued. “It doesn’t mean she knows anything.”
Roman’s throat bobbed.
Theon stood. “I’ve moved her somewhere quiet. No antiseptic smell. No white walls. She’ll wake calmer.”
He reached the door, then stopped and looked back.
“And Roman—”
Roman didn’t respond.
“You already know this,” Theon said calmly, “but I’ll say it anyway. Until your system fully stabilizes, you cannot let yourself get emotionally provoked. Not anger. Not fear. Not guilt.”
He paused, eyes sharp now. “I don’t know how you managed to find your way back into her life. But… this is messed up. You should’ve kept things the way they were.”
He opened the door.
“Some things should've remained buried. She’s in the next room. Try not to ruin her calm again.”
Then he walked out.
Roman let out a heavy breath, dragging a hand through his hair. His chest felt tight.
“This is going to be more complicated than I thought,” he muttered.
\---
Roman stepped into the next room.
It was also warm. Cozy. Soft lighting. Calm colors. It looked like more like a private suite, than a hospital.
Evelyn lay on the bed, her lashes resting against her cheeks, her chest rising and falling slowly.
Roman walked to her silently, afraid to make any noise.
He stood there for a long moment, just looking at her face.
Then he sat beside her and took her hand into his, lifting it to his lips.
He stared at her face for a long moment.
He kissed her knuckles softly. Once. Twice.
“Evelyn…” his voice came out low, and strained. “Whatever happens, I hope you don’t hate me.”
He paused, eyes tracing her features like he was memorizing her.
“I know I’m selfish,” he whispered, voice roughening with emotions. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead, his touch feather-light. “I just… can’t let go.”
His thumb brushed lightly over her fingers.
His throat tightened.
“And if anything…” he swallowed, voice cracking slightly, “I hope things remain like this. Where you don’t have to remember anything.”
At that exact moment—
Evelyn’s lashes fluttered.
Her eyes slowly opened.
Roman’s breath caught in his chest, his heart stuttering to a stop.