The Sick Lie Syndrome

The Sick Lie Syndrome
Madam Scott leaned into her pillow dramatically, sniffing for effect. “Honestly, Skylar, you don’t have to stay the night.”
Skylar sat at her bedside, adjusting the shawl around her shoulders like tucking in a fussy child. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ve always looked after me like your own… let me return the favour.”
Grandma sighed deeply, then coughed—delicately, of course. “I didn’t ask to be worshipped, dear. Just pampered occasionally.”
From the corner of the room, William leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, stifled a laugh. Grandma gave him a sharp glare the moment Skylar turned to fetch the hot water bottle again.
“I had a spa appointment tomorrow!” she hissed in a whisper. “A body scrub and foot massage, booked three weeks in advance! Then kitty lunch at Nancy’s! Now I’m stuck here like a prisoner with this damn bottle!”
William smirked, scratching break of his neck. “Serves you right. All this drama to save my skin.”
“Grandma shot him a look. “Don’t be smug. I did it for your wife.”
“My favourite wife,” he said sweetly.
“There better not be others,” Skylar said flatly, glancing over her shoulder.
William cleared his throat and looked away. “Just a figure of speech.”
Grandma rolled her eyes. “God give me strength. One Scott man is enough drama for five lifetimes.”
She glared at William. "Now go set the dinner table. I can’t keep this up for long—my back might actually get sore."
The Scott dining room felt unusually cozy, thanks to Skylar’s careful touch. Warm food steamed beneath ornate lids, and Madam Scott sat at the head, stole draped over her like the queen of melodrama. William watched, amused, as Skylar ladled soup into her bowl.
“No salt, no spice, no taste,” Grandma sniffed, peering suspiciously into the bowl. “What is this? Boiled depression?”
“It’s clear vegetable soup,” Skylar said gently. “Good for weakness.”
“I’m weak, not dead inside.”
William burst out laughing, nearly choking on his water. Skylar tried to hold in her smile.
“You want a side of green chilli with that?” Skylar asked dryly.
“Wouldn’t hurt.”
William leaned in. “You do know if she eats spicy food now, we’ll have to carry her to the ER.”
“Then carry me,” Grandma muttered, poking the soup with her spoon like it had offended her.
Skylar exchanged an exasperated glance with William and stood up. “Fine. I’ll get something you’ll actually eat.”
“She likes tofu with red chili flakes and rice,” William offered as Skylar walked toward the kitchen.
Madam Scott shot him a look. “You remember?”
He shrugged. “I remember everything about the women who fake illnesses for me.”
She whacked his arm with her spoon. “Don’t be too clever. You’re lucky she loves you. I’d have thrown you out by now.”
After dinner Grandma leaned back, satisfied, her plate wiped clean. Skylar returned with warm water and a gentle scolding look.
“You just had three servings of rice,” she whispered. “Sick people don’t eat that much.”
“I was emotionally hungry,” Grandma said, dramatically placing a hand on her chest. “You made me feel better.”
William grinned. “This whole house is a theatre.”
Madam Scott raised her brows. “And you two are the leading pair. Now—go. Leave me to my 'rest.' And don’t you dare hover outside my door like lost puppies.”
Skylar started to protest. “But what if you—”
“I’m not dying tonight, child. Go reminisce or flirt or argue or whatever it is you two do in closed rooms.”
William stood and offered his hand. “Come on, nurse. Duty’s over.”
She moved into the room slowly, her fingers brushing over old trophies, framed accolades, and a few vintage photographs mounted with care. The shelves were lined with classic novels, model cars, and memorabilia from expensive summer camps abroad. A heavy mahogany desk stood untouched, as if frozen in time.
“It hasn’t changed a bit,” she murmured, taking in the deep blue walls, the old leather reading chair by the window, and the antique globe still resting in the corner.
William smiled faintly. “I like it this way.”
She turned, a playful glint in her eyes. “I used to barge in without knocking. Used to drive you mad.”
“You never gave me a minute of peace,” he said, half-grinning as he leaned against the doorframe.
Skylar chuckled. “That was the plan. I liked seeing you flustered. Especially when you were on a call or pretending to be busy with homework just to avoid me.”
William rolled his eyes. “You used to sit on that window seat for hours, pretending to read, just waiting for me to say something.”
“And you never did. I had to throw pencils at your head to get your attention.”
He smirked. “You threw my own things at me.”
She smiled, walking toward the old bookshelf. “There’s that spy novel I once borrowed and never returned. You wrote ‘return this or die’ on the cover.”
“I meant it,” he said dryly.
They shared a quiet laugh, the kind that settled deep in the chest. But the warmth faded just a little as Skylar ran her fingers over the back of the chair.
“I haven’t been here in years,” she said softly. “Not since that day.”
William’s expression shifted. He knew exactly which day she meant. Before he could speak, she added, “The day you told me to stay out. You didn’t even look at me… just told me to get lost. And after that, you stopped talking. Stopped everything. It all changed after Evelyn came.”
William exhaled slowly. “It wasn’t because of her.”
She looked up.
He hesitated, then walked toward the window. “You were always around. And people started talking. Servants, even guests… They weren’t kind. They said things I couldn’t bear to hear about you.”
Her brows furrowed.
“I was immature,” he admitted. “Instead of protecting you, I thought distancing myself would shield you. Keep your dignity intact. But all it did was hurt you.”
Skylar stared at him, quiet for a moment. “You didn’t say a word.”
“I didn’t know how,” he confessed, voice low. “And I didn’t think you’d understand. Or forgive me.”
Skylar blinked hard, her voice low. “So… you weren’t ashamed of me?”
He looked up sharply. “Never. I was trying to protect your name in the worst way possible.”
She didn’t speak. Just watched him, as the silence between them grew heavier—filled not with anger, but the weight of everything unsaid over the years.
Skylar sat beside him, her voice shaky. “You should’ve told me.”
“I didn’t know how,” he admitted. “And by the time I realised what I’d done… the damage was done.”
She didn’t say anything. Just sat there, the quiet humming between them louder than words.
After a beat, William added, “But I’m glad you’re here now.”
Skylar met his gaze. “Me too.”
The silence stretched—no longer heavy, but warm and charged.
William turned to her, eyes meeting hers in the soft glow of the antique lamp. Shadows played on her face, catching the tremble of her lashes and the warmth in her gaze.
“I missed this,” he said, voice low.
Skylar looked at him, brows tugging gently. “What?”
“You. Sitting beside me. In this room. Like nothing ever changed.”
She gave a faint smile. “A lot has changed.”
He nodded. “Yeah. But you still look at me the same way.”
She looked down at her hands, but he reached out, gently brushing his knuckles along her cheek.
“You still make my heart race,” he murmured.
Her breath hitched.
“William…”
He leaned closer. “Tell me to stop.”
She didn’t. Her gaze flicked to his lips, then back to his eyes, her silence trembling with permission.
His hand found hers, fingers intertwining. “You don’t know what it’s been like, pretending we’re nothing… when all I wanted was this.”
He tilted forward, and this time, she met him halfway.
Their lips met—tentative at first, like testing the edge of a long-lost memory. But the moment deepened quickly, the kiss turning urgent. Hungry. Years of confusion, pain, love—all poured into that one breathless moment.
William pulled her closer, hands sliding to her waist as their lips stayed locked. She gripped his shirt, grounding herself as he gently pushed her back onto the bed, hovering over her.
The room blurred around them—memories melting into the heat of the present.
He paused, forehead resting against hers. “Are you sure?”
Skylar’s voice was soft, but steady. “I’m not here out of duty tonight, William.”
He smiled.
Her fingers moved slowly, unbuttoning his shirt one by one, revealing the familiar plane of his chest. He reached up and gently pulled the clutch from her hair, letting it tumble down around her shoulders.
She ran her hand over his abs—her favourite place, the spot she always used to sneak a touch when he wasn’t looking.
Between stolen kisses and deep breaths, clothes were quietly discarded, piece by piece, until nothing remained between them but years of longing and everything they’d never said.
And then there were no more words—just the rustle of sheets, the echo of sighs, and the sound of two hearts finally breaking free from everything that had held them back.