When I turned and saw him walking in, a surge of instinct urged me to rise and help him, but I remained frozen, lying there. He made his way slowly to my bed, each step deliberate, as though the weight of the world hung on his shoulders. As he sat beside me, I caught sight of his hands, wrapped in bandages, a stark contrast to the vibrant spirit I knew him to be. Gently, he brushed a stray hair from my face, and in that fleeting touch, a well of emotions surged within me. Tears began to fill my eyes, blurring my vision like a rain-drenched window.
"It's okay, Elara, please don't cry," he whispered softly, his voice a soothing balm. "I'm fine now, look at me. We'll get through everything." He continued to wipe away my tears with his calloused hand; each swipe was a testament to his desire to comfort me. Despite my best efforts to hold back, tears streamed down my cheeks, fueled by the sight of his battered body, bruises telling stories of pain that only deepened my sorrow.
"Damon, please, what happened to you? What's happening? You're not my brother; how can this be? Please, just explain everything to me." I sat up abruptly and wrapped my arms around him, clinging desperately as I cried—cried until my eyes felt dry and my body shook with the weight of my grief. He held me tightly, refusing to let go until the storm of my tears began to settle.
"Elara, when we get better, when all this is over, I'll take you somewhere special. You'll love it," he promised, his voice laced with warmth. I nodded, a small smile breaking through the sadness, imagining brighter days ahead.
We spent the afternoon talking, and he recounted the events that had led to his injuries, his words heavy with the challenges he faced. Despite the circumstances, he held onto hope that Mr Rowel would see justice served against James. My curiosity was piqued when he mentioned Mr. Rowel. "So, is Mr. Rowel your father?" I inquired, the question slipping out before I could think.
He looked at me, and I could see the conflict in his eyes, a storm brewing beneath the surface. "I don't know, Elara. That's what the DNA test says. If it's true, then we're not siblings, or in any way related." His gaze bore into mine, unreadable yet searching, leaving me yearning for answers. I wished I could decipher whether he felt relief or sorrow at this revelation. Gently, he squeezed my hands, his touch a mixture of reassurance and uncertainty, then pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.
"I need to go now, Elara. You should rest," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of reluctance as he prepared to leave. I sighed, a heaviness settling in my chest as I lay back down, thoughts swirling around in my mind, grappling with the whirlwind of events that had changed everything.