CHAPTER TWELVE ETHAN 'S POV

CHAPTER TWELVE ETHAN 'S POV


I woke to an empty bed.

The sheets beside me were warm, but Liam was nowhere to be found.

For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, my body aching in more than one manner.

Last night had been crazy and dangerous, but it had also been inevitable.

The way he'd touched me, the way I'd let him, there was no use denying it had meant something.

I half-turned, expecting to see him slouching in his chair, smiling as if he hadn't just slipped out before dawn.

But nothing. No sign he had ever been present but the memory of his touch on my skin.

A knock on the door interrupted the silence.

I sat up too hard, my hurt arm throb of agony flashing through it. I clenched my teeth, forcing myself to set aside the pain as the nurse arrived.

"Good morning," she said, her smile rigid as she approached to take my vitals. "You're doing well. The doctor will be in soon to discuss your discharge."

Discharge. The word should have brought me relief, but all I felt was tension.

By the time the doctor arrived, I was already restless, my head still confused in last night.

"You're lucky," the doctor said after reading my chart. "No permanent damage, but be cautious. You can move your arm, but gently. No overstraining yourself unnecessarily."

"Can I go home?"

The doctor sighed. "As long as you take your medication as prescribed and don't overstrain yourself too much, yes."

I nodded, barely listening to the rest. I just had to escape this place. From my own head.

But the moment I was brave enough to believe I could breathe, Diana came in.

She strode into the room as if she owned it, heels clicking against the cold floor, eyes demanding attention.

Before I could explain anything to her, she leaned over and kissed me softly and gently on the mouth.

I tensed.

The kiss was brief but deliberate, her fingers running along my jaw as if she had meant it.

I took a step back. "What was that?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"You weren't interested in that earlier," I said, my voice flat. "No strings, remember? You didn't want to be married any more than I did."

She hesitated, something unreadable crossing her eyes before she exhaled. "Perhaps things have changed."

I hardened.

She grasped my hand, her grip loose but unyielding. "A loveless marriage can never work. We could actually try…"

"Stop." My voice hard, unflinching. "I don't want it."

Something in her expression changed, her hand closing more rigidly around mine.

"You don't get to decide that."

A chill shivered through me.

She crept closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "If you go againt our plan, I'll tell your family. I'll tell them every single thing and I am sure you know what that means.."

My heart hammered against my ribcage.

She wasn't smiling.

I kept my face expressionless, though my mind reeled. "I'll think about it." My voice was flat, calm. "But I don't feel anything for you. Just a sense of obligation."

She stared at me for a long moment before she nodded at last.

"Think fast, Liam." she whispered, and then just turned and walked away like she hadn't just destroyed my entire world.

I inhaled slowly, running my hand across my face.

The whole room was spinning. My whole life was spinning

And all I could do was think about Liam. If only I could get his comfort.

……….

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and something metallic. I sat at the edge of the bed, already dressed, waiting for the inevitable.

My doctor stood facing me, arms folded, giving me his final words like a man who expected that I would not listen.

"Like I said before, your arm is healing, but you have to take it easy. No jerky movements, no lifting heavy objects. The medication should take effect, but you have to follow the prescription."

I nodded indolently, half-listening. My mind was elsewhere, with the man I had slept next to, the man I shouldn't be thinking about.

"Are you sure you're ready to go home?" my mother's voice cut into my thought.

She and my father had come a little while ago, concern etched and hovering hands. My mother smoothed out the collar of my shirt, tugging at it like she always did. "You don't need to rush."

"I'm fine," I said to her. "Just tired."

The discharge was slow, with paperwork to complete and last-minute checks to receive. Finally, we left, my father leading the way and my mother hovering, as if I would collapse at any moment.

The ride home was silent, aside from the soft thrum of the radio. The lump in my chest tightened as the city lights blurred by.

Home. I should have been relieved. I felt trapped instead.

The house was quiet now. After a day of visits and hovering relatives, I could finally breathe. My parents had insisted on accompanying me during my hospital discharge, treati