The first thing I felt was the ache.
A dull, throbbing pain in my neck that made every breath sting. My eyelids fluttered open to the sterile brightness above me, and for a second, I forgot where I was. The white ceiling. The soft beep of machines. The faint scent of antiseptic.
A hospital.
My throat was dry, and when I swallowed, it burned. I lifted my hand, touching the bandage on my neck. A hiss escaped my lips. And that's when it all came rushing back, Jackson's voice, the knife, the sting of the blade, the panic.
Then Alex's voice shouting my name. The sound of fists.
I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could forget.
When I opened them again, I noticed someone sitting by the window. Martha. Her hands were clasped tightly together, her expression a mix of worry and relief. The moment she saw me awake, her eyes widened.
"Oh, thank heavens! Mrs. Matteo...Ava...you're awake!"
I managed a faint smile. "Martha…" My voice cracked. "Where's Alex?"
She hesitated, brushing invisible lint off her apron. "He… stepped out to speak with the doctor. He hasn't left your side since they brought you in, dear."
That made me pause.
Alex...who could barely stand being in the same room with me...had stayed?
Before I could ask more, the door opened.
He walked in, tall and sharp in a rumpled shirt, his sleeves rolled up, a faint bruise on his temple. He froze when our eyes met. For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
"You're awake," he said finally, his tone flat.
"Yeah." I swallowed. "Thanks to you."
His gaze flickered, but his expression stayed guarded. "You shouldn't have wandered off."
The words stung. Blame. That's what I heard.
I looked away, focusing on the IV drip instead of his face. "I just needed a minute to breathe, Alex. You didn't exactly make it easy in there."
"I told you to stay close," he snapped, his voice sharper now. "Do you even realize what could have happened? He could've..."
He cut himself off, jaw tightening.
Martha silently excused herself, leaving us alone in the thick, heavy quiet.
I pushed myself up slightly, pain flaring through my body. "Don't yell at me like it's my fault. I didn't ask for any of this."
He raked a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly. "You think I wanted this? You think I enjoyed finding you bleeding on the damn floor because of me?"
I froze. Because beneath his anger, I heard something else. Fear.
But before I could respond, he stepped back, his tone softening just barely. "You need rest."
He turned for the door.
"Alex…" I called weakly. "You didn't sleep in the room last night."
He paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. "No. I didn't."
And then he was gone.
The door clicked shut behind him, and I stared at it for a long time, a lump forming in my throat. I didn't know what hurt more, my neck, or the distance he kept building between us.
.......
Martha came back later with soup that smelled faintly of ginger and home.
"Mr. Matteo said to make sure you eat," she said softly, placing it on the table beside me. "He's handling all the hospital bills. You'll be discharged tomorrow."
I nodded, though I didn't feel hungry. The spoon trembled slightly in my hand.
Martha sighed, sitting at the edge of the bed. "You know, I've worked for that man since he was a boy. He doesn't say much, but the way he looked when he carried you in here… it scared me."
"Scared you?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes." Her eyes softened. "Because it wasn't anger, dear. It was fear. Real fear."
......
That night, I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Jackson's face, the glint of the knife, the way his words dripped with hate.
I turned on my side, staring through the glass wall of my hospital room. That's when I saw him.
Alex.
Leaning against the wall in the hallway, head bowed, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on my room. Watching. Guarding.
My chest tightened.
I turned away quickly, pressing my face into the pillow. I didn't know why it hurt so much that he cared silently instead of saying it out loud.
.......
By morning, he still hadn't come inside.
Instead, Martha brought me clothes and a quiet message.
"Mr. Matteo says he'll be waiting downstairs when you're ready."
I forced a small smile. "Of course he did."
Martha hesitated before leaving. "He's trying, Ava. He just doesn't know how."
Her words stayed with me long after she left.
Because maybe she was right.
Maybe Alex was trying, ust not in the way I wanted him to.