Chapter 52: The Breach
The pale morning light filtered through the slightly parted curtains. The sound of birds chirping outside the private mansion stood in sharp contrast to the biting scent of rubbing alcohol inside the room. Agatha opened her eyes slowly. She stared at the unfamiliar white ceiling for a few seconds before the memories of last night rushed back. She tried to move her fingers against the sheets. Her hand felt cold and stiff. She reached for Xavier’s large hand that had previously held hers so tightly, but she found only empty air.
Agatha turned her head to the side. That side of the bed was already neat. The warmth of the person who had been sitting there had long since evaporated. Agatha took a deep breath. The rising and falling of her chest made the stitches in her waist feel as though they were being pulled by hot wire. She winced. Cold sweat broke out on her temples as she realized she was alone in this vast room.
"Xavier," Agatha called out.
Her voice was nothing more than a broken, dry whisper. There was no answer. The room remained silent, save for the ticking of the wall clock that sounded incredibly irritating to her ears. Agatha tried to prop herself up with both elbows. Pain immediately shot from her abdomen to her back. She fell back into the pile of pillows, biting her lower lip to stifle a groan.
The bedroom door opened slowly. Xavier walked in with very cautious steps, as if he were treading on a thin layer of ice that could break at any moment. He had changed out of his dirty clothes. The black shirt that had been stained with blood last night was replaced by a clean, dark blue polo shirt. His hair was still slightly damp, and the scent of citrus and mint soap immediately filled the air.
Xavier’s steps halted the moment he saw Agatha was awake. He saw his wife’s eyes fixed on him with a sharp, angry gaze.
"You are awake," Xavier said. He walked closer toward the bed.
"Where were you," Agatha asked. Her sentence was not a question, but a cold demand.
Xavier placed a tray containing a glass of warm water and several capsules of medicine on the bedside table. "I was just showering in the room next door."
"You showered to wash away the smell of blood clinging to your skin, not because you wanted to feel fresh," Agatha retorted. She did not break eye contact with Xavier’s tired eyes.
Xavier sighed. He tried to reach for Agatha’s hand, but she quickly pulled it away under the blanket.
"You promised to stay here, Xavier. You said you would not go anywhere while I slept. I asked for it, and you broke it," Agatha said. Her voice was stabilizing, though it carried a clear note of disappointment.
"I only went downstairs for a moment, Agatha. Frans needed me to confirm a few things regarding Vargo," Xavier explained.
"Do not use Frans as an excuse. Since when does a man like Frans need you just to look at a helpless prisoner? You went there to enjoy yourself. You left me alone in this condition just to satisfy your thirst," Agatha said. She attempted to sit up again even as the pain in her waist bit back.
"Do not move, Agatha. Your stitches could open again," Xavier said, his voice rising with worry. He immediately held her shoulders to keep her lying down.
"Let go of me. You are a liar. You know I hate people who break promises, especially when you do it after I asked you to stay by my side," Agatha snapped. She slapped Xavier’s hand on her shoulder, though her strike was weak.
Xavier pressed down on Agatha’s shoulders more firmly yet gently to keep her from struggling. "I did it for us. Vargo has to speak about who helped him penetrate our security system."
"Vargo is already broken. He will not run. You just wanted to hear his voice begging for his life, didn't you? You preferred spending time with that mad dog over staying with me, who almost died in your arms last night," Agatha said. Her eyes began to well up from a mixture of anger and physical pain.
"It is not like that, Agatha. I just wanted everything settled as quickly as possible so you could rest peacefully without any more disturbances," Xavier replied. He tried to soften his expression.
"Rest peacefully? How can I be peaceful when, the moment I close my eyes, the person who is supposed to guard me disappears to torture someone else? I am a hitwoman, Xavier. I know exactly what you were doing down there. That smell does not disappear just with bath soap," Agatha said.
Xavier fell silent. He bowed his head for a moment. He knew Agatha was right. The scent of blood and suffering in the basement still lingered in his mind.
"I am sorry," Xavier whispered.
"Your apology is useless. You left me when I was feeling truly afraid for the first time in my life," Agatha said. She turned her face toward the window, refusing to look at him.
"You were afraid? The Agatha Rosetta felt afraid?" Xavier asked in disbelief.
Agatha turned back to Xavier with reddened eyes. "Yes, I was afraid. I was afraid that when I woke up, you would be gone. I was afraid this wound would make me unable to protect you anymore. And the most terrifying thing was realizing that you prioritized your grudge over my presence by your side. I was afraid of losing the one person who was willing to stay by my side for the first time."
Xavier felt a tightness in his chest hearing that confession. He immediately sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Agatha into his embrace. This time, he did not let her pull away. He cradled her head against his chest, letting her hear his irregular heartbeat.
"I am sorry. I am truly sorry. I was a fool for thinking you would sleep for a long time," Xavier whispered into Agatha's ear.
Agatha did not return the hug. Her hands remained at her sides, but she no longer tried to pull away. "Never do that again. Never leave me without telling me."
"I promise. I will not do it again. I will stay here until you are truly sick of seeing my face," Xavier said. He kissed the top of Agatha’s head repeatedly.
"I am already sick of it now," Agatha muttered, though her voice was no longer sharp.
Xavier loosened his embrace slightly so he could look at Agatha’s face. He picked up the glass of water from the tray. "Now, take your medicine. Pierre said you will feel better after this."
"I do not want medicine. I want you to go out and throw away all the knives you used earlier," Agatha said with a cold, threatening tone.
"I have already done it. I told Frans to clean everything up. There is no more Vargo, no more blood in that basement," Xavier lied. He knew he had to lie to calm his wife.
Agatha narrowed her eyes. "Are you lying again?"
"No. I swear. Now, drink," Xavier said as he held the glass to Agatha’s lips.
Agatha took her medicine reluctantly. She swallowed the capsules while keeping a suspicious gaze on Xavier. Once finished, she leaned back against the pillows.
"Xavier, if you leave again, I will rip these stitches out myself and leave this mansion," Agatha threatened.
Xavier smiled thinly, a smile full of gratitude because his wife had returned to her stubborn self. "I know you are capable of it. That is why I will not dare step out of this room without your permission."
"Good. Now help me sit up. I want to see what is happening outside through the window," Agatha commanded.
"No. You must stay lying down at least until this afternoon. Pierre will be angry with me if your condition worsens," Xavier refused.
"I do not care about Pierre. I am bored of looking at this ceiling," Agatha said.
Xavier shook his head. He pulled the blanket up to Agatha’s shoulders. "You are staying here. If you are bored, I will read something to you or we can talk about anything."
"Talk about the omelet you promised. I am starving right now," Agatha replied.
"The omelet is being prepared by the staff in the kitchen. I will bring it here as soon as it is done," Xavier said.
"You are the one who has to make it. That was your promise last night," Agatha protested.
Xavier rubbed Agatha’s forehead gently. "Fine. I will make it myself in the kitchen downstairs. But you must promise not to get out of this bed while I am in the kitchen."
"How long will you be in the kitchen?" Agatha asked suspiciously.
"Only fifteen minutes. I will run back here," Xavier answered.
Agatha stared at Xavier for a few moments, trying to find honesty in her husband’s eyes. "Fifteen minutes. If you are a single second late, I will assume you went back to the basement."
"Agreed," Xavier said. He stood up and gave Agatha a brief kiss on the forehead before walking toward the door.
Agatha watched Xavier’s back disappear behind the door. She let out a long sigh and leaned back weakly. Although she was still angry, a sense of relief washed over her because Xavier was there. She touched the bandage on her waist, which still felt rhythmic with pain. The memory of gunshots and the smell of gunpowder was still fresh in her mind, but the scent of soap from Xavier’s body was slowly beginning to replace it.
A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened again. Xavier entered carrying a plate of omelet that was still steaming hot. The aroma of butter and cheese immediately filled the room.
"Fourteen minutes and fifty seconds," Xavier said, showing his watch.
Agatha only huffed, but the corner of her lips lifted slightly. "Put it here. I will eat by myself."
"No. I am the one feeding you. Your hands are still too weak to hold a fork," Xavier said. He sat back on the edge of the bed and began cutting the omelet into small pieces.
"I am not a child, Xavier," Agatha complained, yet she still opened her mouth when Xavier offered the first bite.
"You are my patient now. And I am your most patient personal doctor," Xavier countered.
They spent that morning in a much more comfortable silence. Every bite of the omelet felt like a medicine far more potent than the capsules Pierre had given. Agatha occasionally complained about the saltiness, while Xavier only responded with a calm smile. Outside, the world might still be in shambles, but inside that medical room, the storm had truly passed, leaving behind remnants that were slowly being cleared by their togetherness.