My entire body went rigid.
Not from pain.
From fear.
That name alone was enough to make the memory of the fire crawl back into my skin.
Berta.
Steven turned to look at me. I knew he saw the change on my face.
Fear.
Anger.
Trauma.
"Don't let her in…" I whispered.
But the sound of high heels was already approaching from the hallway.
Slow.
Calm.
As if she were coming to visit a sick friend.
Not someone she had tried to burn alive last night.
The doorknob began to turn.
My hand reflexively gripped Steven's wrist.
My eyes widened.
"She must not see me…" My voice trembled. "Please…"
Steven stepped in front of my bed.
The door opened slowly.
And that very familiar voice came, soft and sweet.
"Raya… you're alive?"
The smile in her voice made my blood run cold.
Steven stood like a wall between me and the door.
"I already said the patient needs rest," he said coldly.
Berta laughed lightly. Gentle. Fake. "I just want to make sure my best friend is okay."
Best friend.
The word felt disgusting now.
I could hear her footsteps approaching. Slow. Confident. As if she carried no sin in her hands.
"Berta…" My voice was barely audible.
She stopped.
"I'm here, Raya. I was so worried last night. Walker called me in a panic."
Panic.
I wanted to scream.
Steven glanced back at me slightly. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to."
But I wanted to see her face. I needed to see for myself… how someone could sound so calm after trying to kill me.
"Let her come closer," I whispered.
Steven hesitated, but he moved aside a little.
And for the first time since the fire, I saw Berta.
Her hair was neat, her makeup light, and her face wore a perfectly trained expression of concern.
But her eyes…
Her eyes were not shocked.
Not afraid.
Not guilty.
They were only… observing.
As if she were checking something.
"Thank God you survived," she said softly.
I stared at her without blinking. "Yeah… I didn't expect that either."
There was a small pause.
Very small.
But I saw it.
A fraction of a second of disappointment in her eyes.
And that was enough.
"You must be in so much pain," she continued.
I gave her a faint smile. A smile that felt foreign even on my own face.
"Not as painful as being betrayed by a best friend."
The room fell silent.
Steven turned to me quickly.
Berta froze.
Just for a second.
Then she laughed softly. "You're still disoriented from the medication, Raya. Don't say strange things."
Disoriented?
I looked at her sharply. "I remember everything."
This time, her smile truly disappeared.
But only for a second.
After that, her gentle expression returned.
"You need to rest. We'll talk later when you're calmer."
She stepped back.
And before leaving, her gaze dropped over my entire body wrapped in bandages.
Observing.
Calculating.
As if she wanted to know… how badly I was ruined.
The door closed.
The room felt colder after she left.
My breathing trembled.
"I want a mirror," I said quietly.
Steven immediately tensed. "No."
"Why is everyone forbidding me from seeing my own face?"
He didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
My heart started pounding fast.
"Steven…" My voice shook. "How bad is it?"
He moved closer and sat down beside my bed.
"You're alive. That's what matters most."
"That's not an answer."
He fell silent.
His eyes glanced at the bandage on my cheek. Then to my hand. Then back to my eyes.
And there, I saw it.
Fear.
Not fear of me.
But fear of me knowing.
Tears slid down my face silently.
"My face…" I whispered.
Steven carefully held my hand. "You're still you, Raya."
That sentence made my chest feel hollow.
Because that was not something you said to someone who was fine.
Suddenly the door opened again.
The doctor walked in with a serious expression.
"Sorry to disturb you. We need to talk to you, Miss Raya."
His tone was different.
Not the tone of a doctor doing a routine check.
This was the tone of a doctor bringing news no one wanted to hear.
Steven stood. "What is it, Doc?"
The doctor looked at me gently. "The burns on your body are quite extensive. But that's not what concerns us the most."
The world seemed to slow down.
"Please… speak honestly," I said softly.
The doctor nodded.
"Your face was exposed to the fire the longest."
My hands immediately gripped the blanket.
"And…?" My voice nearly vanished.
"We will have to perform several stages of reconstructive surgery."
The word hung in the air.
Reconstructive.
Not treatment.
Not healing.
Reconstructive.
My tears flowed harder.
"I… won't look like myself anymore… will I?"
No one answered immediately.
And that silence hurt more than any answer.
Suddenly, hurried footsteps were heard from the hallway.
A nurse rushed in with a panicked face.
"Doctor… the patient's family is here again. They're insisting on coming in. They say there are administrative matters that must be signed by the patient immediately."
Steven turned sharply. "What administrative matters?"
The nurse hesitated. "A temporary power of attorney for asset management… because the patient is considered incapable of making decisions."
My blood ran cold.
Walker.
He wasn't waiting. He was moving fast. Very fast. Even before I could sit up.
Steven looked at me. His eyes sharp. Angry.
"They want you to sign something in this condition."
I stared at the door of my room, my breath uneven.
Out there…
They weren't waiting for me to die. They wanted to make sure I had no control at all… even while still alive.
And for the first time since I woke up in this hospital…
I felt something different from fear.
I felt anger.
Burning anger.
The sound of footsteps grew closer, stopping right in front of my door.
The doorknob began to turn.
And at that second, I realized something that made my breath catch.
"They're not afraid that I'm alive… and they're so sure… that I won't be able to do anything anymore."