Valeria's POV

The door creaks open, and Emilia steps inside. I watch her carefully, noticing the unsteady way she moves, the slight hesitation in her steps. She looks exhausted—more than exhausted. There's a heaviness in her, a weight she's been carrying alone, and for the first time, I wonder if it's me who's putting it there.

Still, she smiles the second our eyes meet, like she hasn't spent the last few days running herself into the ground. "Hey," she says softly, making her way to my side. Her fingers brush against my wrist, light as a feather, as she checks the IV in my hand, then trails up to my forehead like she's feeling for a fever. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"

Her concern makes something tighten in my chest, but I push it down. "I'm fine," I answer, watching her more than I should.

She exhales, nodding like she's reassuring herself. "Okay... I'm going to take a quick shower, and then I'll be right back, alright?"

I nod, and she hesitates for a second before squeezing my hand gently and standing up. She disappears into the bathroom, and I find myself still watching the door even after it closes.

Lucia enters moments later, carrying a tray of food. She sets it on the nightstand beside me, her eyes flicking toward the bathroom door before back to me. "She hasn't eaten properly in days," she murmurs under her breath, like it's a secret she's reluctant to say out loud.

I glance at the untouched bowl of soup meant for Emilia. A part of me already knew—she looks thinner, paler, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced—but hearing it out loud makes something sharp twist in my stomach.

Lucia gives me a knowing look before walking out of the room. I stare at the tray for a long moment, then back at the bathroom door just as it opens.

Emilia steps out, rubbing a towel over her damp hair, her pajamas slightly loose on her frame. She looks... softer like this, somehow. More vulnerable.

She pauses when she sees me looking at her, blinking like she's caught off guard. "Do you need anything?" she asks, running a hand through her hair.

I shake my head. "Sit next to me."

She hesitates. "What?"

I pat the space beside me. "Come here."

She watches me for a moment, unsure, but then she slowly walks toward the bed, climbing onto it cautiously. She sits next to me, close but still careful, as if she's afraid to take up too much space.

I reach for the spoon, holding it up. "Eat."

She blinks at me. "What?"

"You haven't been eating," I say, voice quiet but firm. "So eat."

Her lips press together, like she's about to argue, but she must see something in my expression because she exhales sharply and leans forward slightly.

I bring the spoon to her lips. She takes a bite, chewing slowly, her eyes fixed on me like she's still trying to figure out what I'm doing.

Without thinking, I lift my hand, my thumb grazing the corner of her lips, wiping away a stray drop of broth.

She freezes.

I don't move, my fingers still resting against her cheek. Her skin is warm—so soft beneath my calloused hands. She exhales, something shifting in her expression.

Then, slowly—hesitantly—she leans into my touch.

I watch as her lashes flutter, her cheek pressing against my palm like she's savoring the warmth. My fingers twitch slightly, but I don't pull away.

Her lips part, and before I can process what she's doing, she turns her head just slightly—just enough to press the softest kiss against my palm.

The moment stretches between us, thick, charged, something unspoken passing between our gazes.

Then, suddenly, her eyes widen in horror. She pulls back, looking at me like she can't believe what she just did.

Emilia's POV

What have I done? My heart pounds violently, my chest rising and falling unevenly as I try to grasp what just happened. My skin still tingles where my lips touched her palm, where she let me touch her.

I kissed her hand like it was second nature, like it wasn't something completely reckless and irreversible.

I stand up too quickly, my chair scraping against the floor. Valeria watches me, her gaze unreadable, her face impossibly still. Then, she speaks.

"Why?" The single word hangs between us, her voice steady, calm, almost too calm.

I freeze. "What?"

"Why did you do that?" The way she looks at me, sharp and piercing, makes my stomach tighten uncomfortably. It's not an accusation, not quite, but it's close.

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. What do I even say? That I wasn't thinking? That I was so caught up in the moment, in the way she looked at me, the way she was taking care of me for once, that I acted without realizing it?

She's waiting. I swallow, fingers clenching at my sides. "I... I don't know."

It's a lie, and she knows it.

Valeria's jaw tightens, her fingers tapping once against the tray. The silence stretches, and I feel as if she's trying to see through me, to dig into whatever mess of emotions I'm trying to suppress.

"You don't know?" she finally repeats, her voice quieter, more searching.

I shift under her stare, my body tense. "I was just... happy that you're alive."

Her expression doesn't change, doesn't falter. She just keeps looking at me, unblinking, as if she's waiting for me to break.

I almost do. But then, she exhales. "Sit."

I hesitate for a moment before lowering myself back down beside her, my body still tense. She picks up the spoon again and holds it out to me.

"Eat." Her voice is softer this time, lacking its usual sharpness, but there's something else beneath it. Something I don't understand.

I part my lips, letting her feed me again, but the air between us is heavier now. Thick with something unspoken. It's like we crossed a line, one we can't pretend isn't there anymore.

Then, just when I think I can breathe again, she does it again.

Her fingers lift toward my chin, her thumb brushing against the corner of my lips. I stiffen, my breath catching in my throat. This time, she doesn't pull away.

Her touch lingers, slow and deliberate, as if she's testing something. My body goes rigid, but I don't move. I can't.

Her fingers glide over my lower lip, applying the faintest pressure pulling my lower lip slightly downwards, and my stomach twists violently at the sensation.

My pulse is deafening. She's watching me—intensely, carefully.

I swallow hard, my lips parting slightly under her touch, and she notices. Her brows furrow, like she's trying to figure something out, something about me.

Then her fingers move lower, gliding down my throat. A shiver runs through me, and I gasp.

Her fingers pause just at the base of my neck, pressing lightly, feeling the rapid beat of my pulse. She knows.

She can feel my reaction, can feel what this is doing to me. She's exploring me, tracing the delicate skin, mapping me out in a way that makes my head spin.

Then—

A sharp knock at the door makes me jerk back as if burned, my breath shaky, my body betraying me.

Lucia's voice filters through the heavy silence. "Miss Emilia?"

Valeria's hand lingers in the air for a fraction of a second before she lets it drop. I scramble to stand, nearly knocking over the tray in the process. My entire body trembles.

She doesn't say a word. Just watches me. I press a hand over my chest, trying to steady the erratic rhythm of my heart.

Valeria's POV

The way her body reacts to me—it's impossible to ignore. Her breath stutters, her lips part slightly, and I can feel the faint tremble beneath my fingers.

Is it fear?

A cold sensation creeps into my chest at the thought. I've spent my life being someone others feared—someone she should fear. But Emilia has never looked at me that way before.

And yet, the way she's frozen beneath my touch, the way she's breathing so carefully—what is she feeling right now?

Her skin is warm, soft, untouched by the kind of life I know. Different from everything I've ever known.

I let my fingers linger a moment longer, tracing her lower lip lightly before trailing down to the curve of her jaw. She doesn't move away. Doesn't stop me.

Then—

A knock.

Emilia jerks away so suddenly that the motion nearly knocks the tray of food off the bed. Her chest rises and falls quickly, her wide eyes flicking toward the door in panic.

Lucia's voice follows the knock, calm and composed. "Miss Emilia?"

Emilia looks like she's just been caught doing something she shouldn't.

I pull my hand back, watching her, watching the way her face flushes even deeper, the way she won't look at me.

Lucia steps inside a moment later, holding a small container of medicine and a fresh towel. Her gaze sweeps across the room, and the moment she sees Emilia's rigid posture and my too-casual stillness, she slows.

Her eyes flick between us—something unreadable settling behind them.

"...Everything okay?" she asks slowly, her voice measured.

Emilia straightens, too quickly. "Yes! Yes, of course! Why wouldn't it be?"

Lucia's expression doesn't change, but something shifts in her gaze. I watch carefully as she places the medicine on the nightstand, her movements smooth, deliberate..

Emilia fidgets beside her, clearly uncomfortable, her eyes darting toward me before flickering away just as quickly. Lucia finally sighs, giving Emilia a once-over before pressing her lips together. "You should eat something, Miss Emilia." Her tone is gentle but firm.

Emilia tenses. "I ate."

Lucia doesn't argue, but the look she gives her says enough. "Did she?" she ask me instead and I nod, she smiles then turns toward the door.

Emilia glares at her. "I'm right here, you know."

Lucia hums in acknowledgment, but doesn't turn back. Instead, she lingers at the door for a second before finally leaving. The silence left behind is heavy.

Emilia lets out a slow breath, her hands curled into fists at her sides. Then, without a word, she takes a step back—away from me.

"I—I should go check on some things," she mutters quickly, voice uneven. And before I can say anything, before I can even think of stopping her—she's gone.

I stare at the closed door for a long moment, my fingers curling over the sheets.

Emilia's POV

I rush down the hallway, my heart hammering in my chest, my skin burning where Valeria had touched me. My breath is uneven, my thoughts tangled into a mess I can't untangle. What the hell just happened?

I press a hand to my cheek, trying to cool the heat spreading across my face, but it's useless. My body still remembers the way her fingers traced my lips, the slow, unhurried way she touched my skin like she was discovering something new. Like she was studying me. Like she was exploring.

I shake my head, forcing myself to stop thinking about it. This is ridiculous. It was just a touch, just a moment. I need to get myself together.

I turn the corner too fast and nearly collide straight into Claire. She blinks, stepping back before her eyes narrow as she takes me in.

"Whoa—what's wrong with you?"

I open my mouth, then close it again, unsure where to start. Claire lifts an eyebrow, waiting.

"I—" I hesitate, rubbing my hands over my arms. "It's Valeria."

Claire's expression shifts slightly, but she keeps her voice light. "What about her?"

I exhale sharply, feeling like an idiot for even bringing this up. "She—she touched me."

Claire blinks. "Okay...?"

"No, not like that," I quickly correct, my face heating. "I mean—yes, but not in a weird way. Or maybe it was weird—I don't know."

She crosses her arms, leaning slightly against the wall. "You're not making any sense. What did she do exactly?"

I swallow, my hands balling into fists at my sides. "She wiped my lips."

Claire's brow furrows, and I can already see the amusement creeping into her face.

I groan. "Not like that! I mean—okay, yes, that happened. But then she... she kept touching me."

Claire's smirk deepens. "Go on."

I glare at her, but my heart is still racing too fast to be annoyed. "She traced my lips, like she was studying them. And then she—" I swallow hard, feeling heat rush to my face. "She touched my neck."

Claire's teasing smile falters slightly. "Your neck?"

I nod, the memory sending another shiver down my spine. "It didn't feel like she was doing it to mess with me, or— I don't know, like how she usually is with her sarcasm and teasing. It felt... different."

Claire studies me carefully, her amusement giving way to something else. "Different for you?"

I hesitate before nodding. "Yes. But it also felt like it was different for her. Like she wasn't doing it for any specific reason—like she was trying to figure something out."

Claire hums in thought, tilting her head. "And how did it make you feel?"

I exhale sharply, feeling utterly lost. "Like my heart was going to explode."

Claire lets out a short laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, sweetheart, you are in so much trouble."

I scowl at her, shoving her arm lightly. "This isn't funny."

She shrugs. "It kind of is. But also... interesting."

I stare at her, my mind still spinning. "Interesting how?"

Claire hesitates before speaking carefully. "Maybe you're right. Maybe she wasn't teasing you or doing it to make you uncomfortable. Maybe she really was trying to understand something."

A lump forms in my throat. "Like what?"

Claire doesn't answer right away. Instead, she watches me closely before saying, "You might not be the only one confused about what's happening between you two."

Her words send a shiver through me, and I don't know whether it's from panic or something else entirely.