Sadness washed over Anna as the remnants of the dream clung to her. Reality pressed down—the child she once carried was gone. Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at the empty room. The ache in her body wasn’t from that loss, but from the cruel rhythm of her cycle, a reminder that still made her feel hollow.
The door creaked open, pulling her from her thoughts. Daniel stepped inside, surprise flickering across his face when he saw her awake.
"I leave for a few minutes, and you’re already up," he said, his tone lighter than the way his eyes searched her. He crossed the room and settled beside her.
Up close, he noticed the sheen of sweat on her brow, and his expression hardened with concern.
"How long was I asleep?" she asked quickly, pretending not to notice his steady gaze. Heat prickled at her skin, and she pushed the duvet away, desperate for air.
"The entire evening," Daniel replied.
Her eyes widened. "A-and you stayed here? All this ti?"
The realization hit her like a jolt, disbelief painting her features.
Daniel t her gaze with quiet certainty, no need to explain. He simply lifted a hand, brushing away the beads of sweat from her forehead with surprising gentleness.
"I wanted to make sure you weren’t hurting anymore," Daniel said so casually that Anna was left at a loss for words.
Her silence stretched between them, but Daniel didn’t press. Instead, he shifted the subject with quiet ease. "Did you have a bad dream?"
The question jolted her. She blinked, wondering how he could tell. Dreams had beco unwelco companions lately, slipping into her sleep whenever they pleased. Sotis she managed a dreamless rest, but the one that had just shaken her left her lips pressed into a thin line.
Daniel caught the subtle change in her expression. Her silence spoke louder than any answer. He exhaled slowly, his concern tightening the edges of his voice.
He had been so unsettled earlier by the sight of her pale face and trembling body that he’d reached out to his doctor. The man had assured him it was common—that every woman experienced cycles differently. Still, he had warned that if the pain beca too severe, they might need to run tests.
Daniel’s gaze lingered on her, weighing whether to say more, but he held back. For now, he only wanted her to know she wasn’t alone.
"No, it was just the cramps," Anna lied, hiding the truth of her dream. She knew if Daniel pressed, he wouldn’t stop until he heard every detail—and she had no words to explain the ache it left behind.
His gaze lingered on her for a long mont before he noticed her slipping off the bed. Without thinking, his hand closed gently around her arm, halting her.
Anna blinked at him, startled. "I just need to pee," she said quickly, the awkwardness between them thickening.
She wasn’t used to this side of him—this careful, almost protective Daniel—and every small gesture unsettled her more than she cared to admit.
After a brief pause, Daniel released her arm, watching silently as she made her way toward the bathroom. Even when the door closed, he stood there, listening, his posture tense as though ready to intervene.
By the ti Anna returned, the aroma of warm food had filled the room. Daniel was seated on the edge of the bed, waiting. A tray rested between them, dishes simple but comforting—the kind of al he had specifically asked Mariam to prepare for her.
"Co," he said, his voice softer than usual as he gestured to the tray. "Let’s have dinner."
Surprised, Anna walked to the bed and settled across from him.
Daniel had asked Mariam to prepare sothing light after consulting the doctor. He knew Anna’s fondness for food, but after watching her writhe in pain earlier, he’d insisted on a al that was gentle and healthy.
"What about you? Are you really going to eat this with ?" she asked, her tone playfully skeptical.
Daniel was a notoriously picky eater, and seeing him agree to food that didn’t match his usual tastes made her certain he’d refuse.
"Yes," he said simply.
Her lips parted in disbelief. She stared at him as though he’d just sprouted horns.
Unbothered, Daniel scooped a spoonful from the bowl and held it out toward her. "Here. Have this."
Her gaze flickered from the spoon to his face. Unlike before, she didn’t doubt him. Slowly, she leaned forward and accepted it.
It wasn’t the first ti he had fed her, but this ti felt different. The genuine effort in his actions unsettled her, tugging at sothing she’d long buried.
In her past, she had wished for monts like this—a simple, harmonious closeness she never thought possible. Now, living it felt like brushing against a dream she couldn’t fully define.
"You don’t have to feed ," she murmured, her voice softer than she intended.
"I know," Daniel replied without hesitation. His eyes held hers as he added, "But I want to."
The words unraveled her awkwardness, leaving her with nothing to do but let him continue. Quietly, she ate from his hand while he took his own share in between, the silence around them strangely comforting.
...
"I’ll sleep now," she said at last, watching him rise and carry the tray to the side table. After spending the entire evening at her side, she thought for certain he would return to his own room.
But when he remained rooted in place, her pulse quickened.
Her eyes widened, and a nervous thought seized her. ’D-don’t tell ... he wants to sleep here.’
Before Anna could voice her thoughts, Daniel had already returned to the bed, slipping onto his side with the sa ease as if he had always belonged there. She froze, staring at him in complete disbelief.
"I’ll sleep here too," he said matter-of-factly. His tone carried no room for argunt. "I don’t want you to suffer through the night in pain, just in case..."
"..."
Anna’s lips parted, but no words ca. His explanation didn’t make sense—at least not to her—but the quiet finality in his voice silenced her protests before they could even form.
Her chest tightened, nerves fluttering in ways she couldn’t na. It wasn’t just his presence that unsettled her—it was the realization that he ant it.
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