Braelyn's POV
"Braelyn,"
"Braelyn,"
The voices drew closer and louder. A light tap on my cheeks seemed to have dragged me back from the darkness that was pulling me in.
My eyes fluttered half open to catch an image of Lucien's face etched with worry between his brows and fear fleeting through those sharp hazel eyes.
I parted my lips to ask what he was doing here but only a groan escaped. Lucien's eyes flickered, sensing I was awake. He quickly gathered me in his arms and marched straight to the bedroom.
His footsteps were fast like he was running against time itself. He placed me gently in bed.
"I will call the ambulance immediately." He said with urgency about his phone from his pocket.
I held his wrist and shook my head. He didn't know about my condition and I preferred it that way.
"There is no need, I am just tired," I said.
His brows furrowed and he was ready to argue with me. "You don't look good Lynn. A doctor will handle the situation effectively."
I still didn't agree.
"We are here for Gregor's funeral. I don't want to be the reason for unwanted drama. Besides, I already took my prescribed medication. I only collapsed due to exhaustion which is normal for my condition." I explained.
None of what I said was false, but Lucien still wasn't convinced. He sat upright by the side of the bed and groaned out in frustration running his fingers through his hair.
"Why are you being so stubborn?" He grumbled. The medication was slowly kicking in, easing the ache in my stomach.
I didn't answer his question. My gaze fell on the side drawer where a tray was placed containing food and water with some ointment. My frown deepened, wondering why he brought it here.
"What are you doing here?" I managed to ask. It wasn't rudeness... I needed to know.
Lucien's gaze flickered and he sighed in defeat. "I noticed you could barely eat after a few sips of soup." He explained.
"And you thought I was hungry." I chuckled. Lucien held my hand, which had some scalds from the burns. He investigated it closely.
"I thought you were uncomfortable with everything, especially how Amelia was hugging Raphael's attention. It seemed like you were secretly in pain..."
" And it turned out I was right. If I were you, I would have poured my soup straight at her face." He paused, then held my gaze. Something in his eyes was drawing me in, something I should not dare to find out.
"I thought of that, even if I wanted to, I couldn't. Besides, Raphael isn't enough reason for me to starve." I answered, averting my eyes from him. His gaze already spoke of how disappointed he was.
Not everyone was like him, who could say whatever they pleased and get away with it. I wasn't Lucien Volkov, the man who didn't care what others thought of him.
"You could not because of the open marriage." He muttered in disappointment. Lucien grabbed the ointment tube and smeared it on my burns before he started spreading it out
He was silent for a while, focusing on the task as if it were the most important thing ever. His touch was gentle, just as his eyes. I didn't stop him and let him continue.
It is not like if I told him not to bother he would listen.
"Why don't you fight back? You can't let everyone continue treating you like dirt and accept it. Once you never fight back, they will never stop. No one deserves such treatment." Lucien said resolutely, his gaze finally left my arm and trapped mine.
My heartbeat skipped. It felt like he was staring deep into my soul through my eyes and pulling me close. I should not feel this way for him. My heart should not skip for my husband's uncle.
I averted my eyes, unable to hold his gaze.
"What do you expect me to do? I can't divorce Raphael, at least not yet, or I will lose everything. " I argued, remembering my late father's will, which was trapping me in this marriage.
I didn't want to reveal many details about the will. Lucien finished applying the ointment. "Then why don't you pretend to be mine?" he said, quieter than before, eyes not quite meeting mine. "If Raphael's playing a game, let's play better."
My breath hitched. I snatched my hand from his hold. How could he think of such a thing? My head snapped at him, eyes wide in disbelief.
"I can't do that. You are Raphael's uncle. What will people say?" I turned down his ridiculous offer.
Lucien scoffed, "You still care about what they say and care when they don't care what they say behind your back or even in your front. You should learn to care less, Braelyn. Being a goodie two-shoes won't do you any good." Lucien snapped at me. For the first time, he raised his voice at me, and I flinched.
His eyes flickered and his expression softened immediately.
"I am sorry I didn't mean to raise my voice." He apologised, then stood up. Lucien grabbed the tray of food and placed it before me.
"Try to eat. I got fried noodles, I wasn't sure what you'd want." He explained. His gaze lingered. He still had more to say, but chose not to speak.
"Take care of yourself, Braelyn, and please try to eat." He said on a final note before walking away. I watched him leave and didn't alter a single word
Lucien got to the door and glanced over his shoulder before he opened it. The door opened, and there was an abrupt shift in his demeanour; his fist clenched immediately.
"What are you doing here?" Raphael's voice echoed from the door sounding suspicious.
"Doing what you should be doing. Try and spare some attention to the woman you claim to be your wife." He sneered then raised his voice.
"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me, Braelyn." He said before leaving. Raphael's face darkened and he closed the door after Lucien.
Raphael stormed towards the bed, his steps were heavy with tension. I was too exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally for his temper.
I turned my attention to the plate of fried noodles and completely ignored him. It tasted pretty good.
"What was he doing here?" Raphael asked.
I was too busy with my noodles to spare him my words. I deliberately chewed slowly, trying to savour the flavour, which was hard to do when a man of over 190cm was glaring at me. How annoying.
Raphael hissed, annoyed by my behaviour.
"Stop being difficult and answer me," he snapped. I dropped my fork. He successfully ruined my appetite.
I glanced at him with a brow arched, "I am being difficult." I repeated after him. Raphael's jaw clenched.
"What was he doing in our bedroom?" He asked, if I didn't know better, I would have thought he was jealous. I chuckled lightly amused.
"That's a strange question to ask. If my memory serves me right, I can recall we are in an open marriage, and I am certain you had shamelessly fucked Amelia on every surface in our home." I retorted, his jaw clenched so hard it looked like it could split.
"Can you stop bringing Amelia into this? He is completely different. For crying out loud, he is my uncle. What will people say?"
I shrugged, then picked up my fork again.
"Nothing, probably. The same way they have been quiet about Amelia, because I see no difference. She was like a sister to you, remember, and that aside, how are her fake burns? Is she still putting on the fake act or are they real?" I asked before taking in a bite.
Raphael was left speechless. He paced around, unable to handle the situation. If he could, he would have hit me, but at least he had never gone that low to raise his hand at me.
"I can't handle this. I am too tired for your drama." He turned to escape to the bathroom. I wasn't done with him.
"If you can't handle it, then go back to your lover. She would be more than happy to welcome you into her arms. I will sleep better with you gone." I pushed further.
"What do you want now? Am I forbidden from my room now?" He groaned, rubbing his face, refusing to face me.
"You can start with why Amelia has the tears of the sea. I thought I had the original." I asked the question that has been burning my throat.
He paused. I could feel his hesitation and tension."I got it for her." He simply replied. I was stunned. Did he give her mine?
He answered my silent questions.
"The one I got for you last year turned out to be fake. You were excited, so I never brought it up. Last month, when I got my hands on the original, I planned on quietly swapping them."
But he didn't; my mood and appetite were completely ruined.
I dropped the fork down. He gave it to her because she wanted it. "You knew how much I wanted them." My voice broke.
Raphael turned around. "I am sorry. Amelia hardly asks for anything. I could not say no." He gave a flimsy excuse.
I tossed the plate of noodles at him. "Get out!!!" Raphael was stunned his lips parted, I didn't want to hear it
"Please just go to her," my voice broke into a plea. He could not fight; his fist clenched, and he stormed out, slamming the doors behind him.