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Eva’s mind spun as Adrian’s words cut through the silence, the harshness of them rattling her already fragile state. Drama queen? It stung. It wasn’t the first time he had dismissed her feelings, but this time it hit deeper—like he had no regard for what she was truly going through. She struggled to find the words to defend herself, but her dizziness and the pounding headache made it impossible to focus on anything but the pain.
She clenched her jaw, her fists curling at her sides. She wanted to snap back, to tell him exactly how selfish he was being. But all she could do was sit there, silently seething, feeling utterly helpless.
Adrian leaned back against the wall, his eyes narrowing as he watched her, his expression unreadable. He’d always been like this—stoic, distant, too wrapped up in his own world to notice hers. But today, it was different. There was an edge to his voice, something colder, as if the once-familiar warmth between them had evaporated entirely.
Eva couldn’t keep pretending she was okay. The stress, the fever, and the overwhelming weight of everything pressing down on her made it hard to even hold her head up. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, allowing herself a fleeting moment of weakness before she pushed herself up, determined not to let him see how much he affected her.
“I’m not a drama queen,” she said quietly, her voice weak but steady. She looked at him, meeting his gaze, though her heart was pounding. “You don’t understand what this is like.”
Adrian didn’t respond immediately. His eyes flickered, and for a brief moment, it seemed like he was seeing her, really seeing her. But just as quickly as it appeared, the look faded. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“You’re not thinking straight. I’m trying to help you here, Eva,” he said, his tone softening, though it still carried a note of impatience. “But you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
Eva’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak. She couldn’t. The words felt stuck in her throat.
Just then, Vivian reentered the room, carrying a damp towel. “I’ve got it, Eva,” she said, her voice soothing. “Let’s get that fever down.”
She carefully placed the cool towel on Eva’s forehead, her touch gentle, almost maternal. Eva’s eyes fluttered shut, the coolness against her skin offering some comfort. But the discomfort of the situation, the constant feeling of being trapped, still lingered.
“Are you feeling better?” Vivian asked, her concern genuine, but there was something else in her gaze—a curiosity, an underlying question Eva couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Eva nodded, though she didn’t feel much better. She could feel Adrian’s eyes on her, could feel the unspoken tension between them, thick as the air in the room. Adrian wasn’t a fool. He knew there was something Eva wasn’t telling him. But he didn’t push—he never did, not unless it was on his terms.
“I’m fine,” Eva murmured, though she knew she wasn’t. “Just tired.”
Vivian didn’t press. Instead, she turned her attention back to Adrian, her smile fading as she spoke softly, “Adrian, I think we should let her rest for a while. It’s been a long day.”
Adrian nodded slowly but didn’t move. His gaze was still fixed on Eva, though it was hard to read the look in his eyes. For a brief moment, she wondered if he cared, if there was anything left between them worth salvaging.
But as always, his walls were up—impenetrable, cold.
“I’ll stay here for a bit,” he said, his voice firm. “You should rest, Eva. We’ll talk later.”
Eva didn’t have the strength to argue. Instead, she lay back, allowing the cool towel to lull her into a semi-conscious state. As her thoughts drifted, she couldn’t help but wonder how much longer she could keep pretending everything was fine—how much longer she could keep hiding the truth from Adrian. Because if she didn’t tell him soon, everything would unravel, and she wasn’t sure if she could survive the fallout.
