Chapter 47 His Soft Lips (Demilia’s POV)
“Mrs. Blackwell, you should at least lie down for some seconds.” The nurse’s voice came from somewhere far away, but I didn't turn. It was more like a long tunnel, the one that I couldn’t reach the end of.
“I’m very fine,” I replied automatically, like I was waiting for her to talk to give her the response.
She didn’t look convinced, not even a bit. “You’ve been standing there for almost an hour, that's kind of strange.”
“I like standing.” I replied, still not looking at her. “That chair was brought for you, to ease the weight on your leg.”
“I don’t want it.” She sighed softly like she was tired of me, the kind of sigh people give when they already know arguing is pointless. “If you feel dizzy at any point, press the bell immediately.”
“I won’t.” She hesitated, then nodded and walked away, her footsteps fading down the hospital corridor. And just like that, I was alone again, with a lot of burden in my heart. Alone with the steady beep of the monitor, with the white walls, with the constant sound of Lena’s breathing.
She lay on the bed, still and pale, tubes and wires attached to her like cruel ornaments. Her chest rose and fell steadily, but she hadn’t woken up since they wheeled her in. Not even to mistakenly move her finger. I moved closer, my fingers curling around the metal rail of the bed.
“I should’ve protected you with the lady drop if blood in me,” I whispered. My voice sounded so wrong, too thin, fragile, like it might shatter if I spoke any louder, but I didn't care.
“I should’ve seen it coming, right from the very moment I saw that wicked smile on Vanessa's face.”
Then, Vanessa’s smile flashed in my mind. It was too sharp, satisfied, and very cruel.
And then, just like a curse, my mind drifted back to Ethan. The way his lips and his hands memorized every part of my body. The way he had grabbed me like he was afraid I would disappear if he let go, even for a second. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block off my mind from whatever was happening.
But my body didn’t listen to me. The memory continued rushing in, completely uninvited and relentless. Not the act itself, but the feeling that had refused to let go. The way my knees had weakened me, like I could fall s y minute. To the way my breath had caught, the my heart had betrayed every promise I had ever made to myself, to not think about him again. I pressed a hand to my chest.
“I didn’t want that to myself,” I whispered to no one in particular. But even as I said it, my body burned with the lie. A soft knock pulled me back, I turned just as the door opened, only to see Ethan stepping in. That very moment, the room changed instantly. It became more charged, and I knew I had to do something.
“You shouldn’t be here all alone,” he said quietly. I didn’t look at him, not even when he tried to make me do it. “She’s my friend.”
“I know about that.” For some reason, his voice wasn’t sharp as usual. It wasn't even cold. That kind of unsettled me more than anger ever could.
“How is she now?” he asked all of a sudden, caring rather too much.
“She's alive,” I replied flatly. “At least, for now.” He winced the moment I said that.
“Don’t,” I snapped angrily. “Don’t pretend this hurts you as much as it does to me.”
“I’m not pretending in anyway, and you of all people should know about that.” I finally turned to face him, though I was still furious because of his claim. He looked… rather wronged, but nothing disheveled, not drunk. He was kind of restrained. Like a man holding himself together by force alone not to burst. “You shouldn’t be here also,” I said.
“I came to check on you, that's my priority, to make sure you are okay.”
That kind of did it, the unexpected. I laughed out, though not loudly, but very short, bitter, and hollow.
“Don’t.” He took a step closer to me again, his audacity increasing. “Demilia...”
“You don’t get to say my name like that,” I interrupted. “Not after last night, and everything that happened.” That earned a big silence between us, but I cared less. His jaw immediately tightened, and I could tell he was holding himself from over reacting.
“I didn’t plan that,” he said. “That’s what scares me,” I replied.
He swallowed an invisible lump already forming on his throat. “I wasn’t in control.”
“No,” I said softly. “You never are.” That made his eyes to darken, his expression changing completely.
“You think that meant nothing to me?”
“I think,” I said, my voice trembling despite myself, “that I don’t know what it meant. And I hate that.” He moved closer, deliberately taking more steps towards me.
I didn’t step back, and that was exactly the problem.
“You kissed me without permission,” I whispered. “And for one second… I forgot everything.”
“And then, what happened after that?” he asked quietly.
“And then I remembered who you truly are.” That for sure hurt him so badly. I saw it on his face.
And it didn’t make me feel better. “I didn’t kiss you back,” I continued. “Not because I didn’t feel it. But because if I did… I wouldn’t stop.”
“Demilia...”
“I won’t be another thing you control,” I said firmly. “Not my body, not my heart.”
“I’m not trying to control you,” he snapped. I met his gaze. “Then why does it always feel like I’m losing myself around you?”
He looked away first, as that seemed to silence him.
“I don’t love,” he said. “It’s a weakness.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Then why do you make me feel like one?”
He didn’t answer, instead, he said, “You should rest.”