Raphael led her back to the room where she had woken up. Without a word, he stepped into the dressing room and returned moments later holding out a girly pair of jeans and a simple top.
"Change into this," he said, settling onto the couch.
Daenerys stared at him, surprise flickering in her eyes. "Aren't you going to leave? I want to get dressed," she stammered.
He didn't look up, resting his head on the couch and gazing at the ceiling. "Haven't I seen it all?" he replied coolly.
A faint blush crept onto Daenerys's cheeks. Without another word, she quickly slipped into the dressing room. Minutes later, she emerged, fully dressed.
"I need to go back to the hospital," she said.
Raphael stood, a rare softness in his voice. "I took the day off for you."
"Oh… wait… how?" she asked, but before she could say more, he turned and left.
She hesitated, then followed after him.
Later, Daenerys stood beside the sleek sports car, looking it over with a mix of amusement and disbelief. Her youthful grin broke free as she muttered to herself, "Do I keep standing here, or do I get in?"
She chuckled softly. "Definitely. If I drive this home, my neighbors will think I've got myself a sugar daddy."
"I—uh, I'd prefer to take a taxi," Daenerys said, offering Raphael the most polite smile she could muster.
Raphael didn't even glance her way. He opened the car door, climbed in, and said sternly, "Get in."
Daenerys frowned, starting to turn toward the gate, but Denroy's hand gently closed around hers.
"It's better not to make him angry," Denroy whispered close to her ear. "You won't tame him down."
He opened the passenger door, and she slid inside reluctantly.
"Aren't you coming along?" she asked him softly.
Denroy shook his head. "Only two seats."
Before she could respond, Raphael's sharp voice cut through. "Shut the door."
She obeyed silently, closing the door and praying her best friend wouldn't be home when they returned.
The car's engine hummed steadily as they pulled away from the mansion, the city lights flickering past like distant stars. Daenerys sat stiffly, her thoughts swirling—questions unspoken, doubts unresolved. Denroy glanced over, offering a reassuring smile but saying nothing.
Raphael drove with quiet precision, his expression unreadable in the rearview mirror. The silence between them was thick, charged with unvoiced tension.
The silence stretched on, heavy and unbroken—until a sudden, soft rumble broke through.
Daenerys's stomach growled loudly, betraying her composure.
She flushed, embarrassed, hoping Raphael hadn't noticed.
Instead, without looking away from the road, Raphael reached beside him and pulled out a neatly wrapped packed meal.
He handed it to her with a curt nod. "Eat."
Surprised but grateful, Daenerys accepted the food, unfolding the wrapping as the car rolled steadily forward.
"Is this where you live?" Rapheal asked, his voice flat, as he turned left into a small, cozy community lined with flowering hedges and weather-worn fences.
"Yes," Danaerys replied, her words muffled by the bite of bread in her mouth.
"It's too rural," he said coldly, eyes fixed on the narrow road.
Her chewing slowed. "Why do you like talking down to me?" she asked quietly.
Silence. He didn't even glance her way. The car rolled to a stop in front of her gate. Danaerys looked out the window, the ache in her chest growing heavier.
"Thanks," she muttered, stepping out without a smile. The door shut with a soft thud, but her mind was loud with anger. She barely noticed the curious, almost suspicious stares from her neighbors as she marched up the stairs, stamping each foot hard as if each step could swallow her frustration.
"Don't take it out on the poor stairs," a familiar voice called.
She looked up and saw Annie—her best friend. A genuine smile cracked through her stormy mood.
"Where have you been? I've been calling and calling—" Annie began, her words tumbling out in a rapid stream as they walked into the sitting room. Danaerys dropped her bag on the couch, but a sudden, sharp sting flared on the side of her neck.
"He's gone," she murmured, almost to herself. She bit her lower lip, willing the pain away, and slipped her feet into her fluffy indoor slippers. Annie was still talking, oblivious to the way Danaerys's fingers brushed her neck.
After lunch, Annie left for her afternoon shift—Danaerys had taken the day off. Alone, she wrapped herself in a towel, deciding a cold bath might wash away both the heat of the day and the lingering words of Rapheal.
The tiles were cool beneath her bare feet as Danaerys stepped into the bathroom. She turned on the tap, letting the water run until it was icy enough to sting her skin. Steam never suited her mood; today she needed the shock of cold to strip away the heaviness clinging to her.
The water poured over her shoulders, chasing down her back in fast, sharp streams. Her mind, however, was far from still.
Rapheal's voice replayed, low and dismissive, as though his words had been carved just to bruise her. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block him out, but instead she found herself thinking of the sting on her neck.
Her hand drifted upward, fingers brushing the spot. It was warmer than the rest of her skin. She winced.
The memory flashed—a fleeting, almost imperceptible moment in the car. The way his gaze had lingered on her in the rearview mirror, not with affection, but with something else. Something that made her chest tighten.
The water ran over her fingers, yet the spot didn't cool. It pulsed faintly, as though it had its own heartbeat.
She turned off the tap and wrapped herself tightly in the towel. The house was too quiet now.
After slipping into a soft satin nightgown, Danaerys sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the fabric pooled around her thighs. Her mind replayed the events of the past twenty-two hours—every sharp word, every fleeting look, every unanswered question.
She lay back against the pillows, the cool sheets pressing gently against her skin. The weight in her chest eased just enough for her eyelids to grow heavy.
Within moments, the swirl of thoughts blurred into shadows, and she slowly drifted into sleep.