24.

VERA'S POV

I woke up to a pounding headache, my head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton. Blinking, I looked around, trying to focus my blurry vision. My room came into view, dimly lit, with Daniel pacing back and forth at the foot of my bed. His hands were shoved into his pockets, his brows furrowed in thought, as though he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Stop pacing back and forth,” I grumbled, my voice hoarse. “It’s giving me a headache.”

He froze mid-step and turned to look at me. For a moment, I thought he might snap back, his sharp tongue ready with a biting remark. But instead, he heaved a long, tired sigh and walked over to my side.

“You’re awake,” he said quietly, his voice softer than I expected. There was something in his eyes—something I couldn’t quite place. Was it relief? Concern? Guilt?

Before I could dwell on it, Daniel turned toward the doorway. “Warm the soup,” he called to one of the maids, his tone firm but not harsh.

I blinked at him in confusion. “Soup?”

He didn’t answer right away, simply pulling up a chair beside my bed and sitting down with a measured grace. When the maid returned with a steaming bowl of soup, he took it from her and dismissed her with a curt nod.

To my utter surprise, Daniel picked up the spoon and began to stir the soup, blowing gently on the steaming broth before bringing it to my lips.

“Eat,” he said simply, his gaze meeting mine.

I hesitated, my heart skipping a beat as I took in the sight of him. This was the same man who could cut down anyone with a single icy glare, the same man who rarely showed any softness. Yet here he was, feeding me soup like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I opened my mouth reluctantly, taking a sip of the warm, flavorful broth. It was comforting, soothing in a way I hadn’t expected.

“You made this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “You need to eat something. The doctor said you need to take care of yourself.”

As he continued to feed me, I couldn’t stop the warmth that spread through my chest. No matter how much I tried to fight it, no matter how many times I told myself I needed to keep my guard up, it was always Daniel before everything.

My love for him, stubborn and unyielding, seemed to grow with every small gesture. And as he sat there, silently ensuring I finished every last spoonful, I realized that no matter how cold and distant he tried to appear, there was a part of him that cared.

It didn’t matter how much I tried to deny it—Daniel was still the center of my world. And I wasn’t sure if that made me strong or unbearably foolish.

After finishing the soup, Daniel set the bowl aside with a quiet clink. He wiped his hands on a napkin, his gaze flickering back to me with an unreadable expression.

“Do you want to take a stroll in the garden?” he asked, his voice calm yet tinged with something… tentative.

I blinked, unsure how to respond. Daniel wasn’t the kind of man who suggested leisurely strolls or anything remotely casual. He was always purposeful, always calculating. But the way he asked, like it was a genuine offer and not some obligation, left me momentarily speechless.

“I…” I hesitated, unsure what to do with this softer side of him. My mind told me to refuse, to keep my distance, but my heart whispered something else entirely.

Daniel waited, patient but watchful.

Finally, I nodded. “Okay.”

Without another word, he stood and extended his hand toward me. I stared at it for a moment before placing my hand in his. His grip was firm but not overbearing, guiding me as I swung my legs off the bed. The dizziness threatened to return, but Daniel’s steady hand at my elbow kept me grounded.

We made our way down the grand hallway and out through the double doors that led to the garden. As soon as we stepped outside, I was greeted by the cool evening breeze and the faint scent of blooming flowers.

The garden was breathtaking, as always. Lavish hedges trimmed into perfect shapes, fountains trickling water that shimmered under the moonlight, and beds of vibrant flowers stretching as far as the eye could see. It was the kind of place that belonged in a dream—or a fairytale.

Daniel guided me along the stone pathway, his hand never leaving mine. For a while, we walked in silence, the only sounds the soft crunch of gravel under our feet and the distant chirping of crickets.

“You’ve been cooped up for too long,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “Fresh air will do you good.”

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “You’re acting... different.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Different?”

“Kind,” I said before I could stop myself.

He stopped walking, turning to face me fully. For a moment, his expression was unreadable, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to decide how to respond.

“I’m not as heartless as you think,” he said eventually, his voice low but steady.

I opened my mouth to reply, but no words came. There was a weight in his gaze that made my heart stutter, a vulnerability I wasn’t used to seeing in him.

We continued walking, his hand still lightly holding mine. He led me to a stone bench near the largest fountain, where we sat in silence for a while.

The cool breeze brushed against my skin, and I couldn’t help but feel… at peace. It was strange, sitting here with Daniel in this quiet moment. But it was also comforting in a way I couldn’t explain.

“Thank you,” I said softly, breaking the silence.

“For what?”

“For… everything tonight,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t say anything, but the slight tilt of his lips—a ghost of a smile—was enough. And as we sat there under the stars, I realized that maybe, just maybe, Daniel wasn’t as unreachable as I’d always believed.