Chapter 21
1892 Words
Lisa’s POV
The words were simple but the way he said them…carefully, like he wasn’t asking casually… like he was observing more than inquiring.
I let out a quiet breath.
“Settling in,” I repeated slowly, my brows lifting just slightly. “Is that what we’re calling it? There was no bite in my tone but there was no softness either, just… truth.
Mr. Cole didn’t react immediately, he didn’t rush to respond. He studied me for a brief second… then gave a small nod.
“As much as circumstances allow,” he said. That almost made me smile… almost because that was the most honest answer I’d heard from anyone in this house so far.
“Circumstances,” I echoed under my breath, then I added, a little more directly this time…
“You weren’t at the wedding,” it wasn’t a question, it was a statement. And it landed exactly how I intended it to, direct, unavoidable. There was a brief shift in the room, subtle but present. Even the doctor paused for half a second before continuing to arrange his things.
Mr. Cole didn’t look uncomfortable, didn’t look caught off guard either. If anything… he looked like he expected that.
“I had prior obligations that required my presence elsewhere,” he replied calmly. No apology, no over-explanation… just a fact.
I tilted my head slightly, “and that took priority?”
A small pause, not long but enough
Then… “I represent Mr. George where he cannot be,” he said. His gaze didn’t waver from mine, “just as I ensure his presence is felt where it needs to be.” He added.
The answer was smooth, polished but layered and I understood it. He wasn’t absent, he was positioned exactly where Ethan needed him to be. That made sense, everything about his world seemed to run on precision like that.
I held his gaze for another second, then nodded once.
“That explains it,” and just like that… the moment passed, not resolved but acknowledged.
“The doctor is here to attend to you,” Ethan’s voice cut in coldly, pulling the focus back.
Oh! That explains the other man.
“Good afternoon ma’am,” the doctor stepped in.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll need to examine your ankle now.”
I shifted slightly.
“Go ahead.”
As he moved closer, Mr. Cole stepped back just enough to give space… The moment his fingers pressed lightly around the swelling… pain shot through me, sharp unforgiving . I sucked in a breath, my fingers gripping the edge of the bed.
“Mm,” he murmured under his breath, studying it. “That’s already swelling more than it should,” his fingers paused, the his gaze lifted straight to Ethan.
“How long ago did this happen?”
“Less than an hour,” Ethan replied.
The doctor frowned slightly.
“And no ice was applied?”
Silence, a brief one yet noticeable. I looked up, Ethan didn’t answer immediately, the question hung in the air.
He looked… unsure, not outwardly nor dramatically but there was a slight pause a fraction too long.
“…No,” he said finally.
The doctor leaned back slightly, exhaling.
“That should have been the first step, immediate icing helps reduce swelling and limits internal inflammation. It could have minimized this significantly.”
His tone wasn’t harsh but it carried weight, direct and practical. Ethan didn’t respond and somehow… that silence said more than words could, the doctor turned back to me, his expression softening.
“You’re going to feel a lot of discomfort for the next couple of days,” he said. “But it doesn’t seem like a fracture, like a ligament strain.”
He adjusted my foot slightly… I winced again.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I need to check mobility.”
“It’s fine,” I murmured, even though it wasn’t.
“Can you try to move it for me?”
I did, barely. Pain flared instantly, sharp enough to make me stop.
“That’s enough,” he said gently. “Don’t force it.”
He reached into his bag, pulling out a compression wrap. “You’ll need to keep weight off it as much as possible, ice it every few hours. I’ll send something for the pain and inflammation.”
He paused, then added, almost deliberately… “rest is not optional.” Something about the way he said it… felt like it wasn’t just directed at me.
He wrapped my ankle carefully, when he was done, he stood. “You’ll be fine,” he reassured me. Then his eyes flicked briefly to Ethan again… “next time… ice first.” Not disrespectful but not softer either, then he walked out.
Silence followed, thicker this time. Mr. Cole stepped back slightly, giving space. Like he had seen everything he needed to see, his gaze passed over me once more.
Then… a nod, he left without another word.
The door closed and just like that… it was only the two of us again. I adjusted slightly against the headboard.
Careful this time, aware of the pain, of him, of the quietness.
“…You didn’t know,” I said. The words came out before I could stop them, not accusing or mocking just… stating. Ethan’s gaze shifted to me, sharp.
“Know what?”
“That you’re supposed to put ice on it first.”
A pause.
Then… “I’m not a doctor.” Flat, dismissive. Like the conversation didn’t matter but that wasn’t what I was looking at, I held his gaze.
“You’re used to knowing everything else.”
That one landed, subtle but deliberate. A flicker passed through his expression, gone almost instantly but I saw it.
“I handle what requires my attention,” he said.
“And that didn’t?”
Silence.
For half a second, then…
“You’re fine now.”
Final, closed, end of discussion. He turned, walked toward the door. Then paused, without looking back…
“Stay off it.”
And then he left.
The room stayed quiet after that, not empty, not peaceful just… still. The kind of stillness that forces you to notice everything you would normally ignore, the ticking of the clock, the faint movement outside the window. The weight of your own thoughts, I shifted slightly on the bed… and immediately regretted it.
Pain shot through my ankle again, sharp enough to remind me exactly where I was and why.
“…Right,” I muttered under my breath. No walking, no unnecessary movement, no distractions just… Time.
A soft knock came a few minutes later.
“Ma’am?” I turned my head slightly.
“Come in.”
The door opened gently, and one of the maids stepped in, carrying a small tray carefully. Like she was stepping into something fragile.
“I brought ice,” she said softly. “And fresh water.”
Of course, there was ice. I almost smiled… almost.
“Thank you.”
She moved closer, setting the tray down beside the bed before turning her attention to my ankle.
“May I?”
I nodded.
She adjusted the pillow beneath my leg first, lifting it slightly. More support, comfort. Then carefully placed the ice pack over the bandaged area.
The cold hit instantly, uncomfortably but…relieving. I exhaled slowly.
“That will help reduce the swelling,” she added gently.
“I’ve been told,” I replied. She paused briefly…like she caught something in my tone… but didn’t comment on it, smartly.
“Would you like anything else ma’am?” she asked.
I thought about it.
Then…
“No. I’m fine.” A small nod. “If you need anything, please call.”
“I will.”
She turned to leave, then hesitated at the door.
“Ma’am…”
I looked at her.
“Yes?”
“…Try not to move too much,” she said softly. “It will slow the healing.”
There was no authority in her voice, no instructions just… genuine concern.
I blinked slightly, caught off guard.
“…Okay.”
She nodded once, then left.
I leaned back against the headboard, eyes drifting toward the ceiling. A knock pulled me back, softer this time.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and for a second… I thought I was dreaming because it wasn’t the maid, it wasn’t another staff… It was him. Ethan… standing there holding a tray.
I straightened slightly, not because I needed to. Because I wasn’t expecting that.
“You didn’t come down,” he said. Like that explained everything, my brows pulled together slightly.
“I couldn’t exactly walk.”
A pause, then…
“You could have called.”
“I didn’t think I needed to.”
Silence, brief, measured. Then he stepped in, setting the tray down on the side table.
“You’ve not eaten today,” he said.
I blinked.
“…I wasn’t hungry,” that wasn’t entirely true. He looked at me for a second, not long, just enough.
Then…
“Eat.”
Not harsh, not loud but still an instruction. Of course, I exhaled quietly, reached for the tray. Balanced it carefully, the movement was slower this time, more deliberate because now… I was aware of everything, even something as simple as holding a spoon.
“What is it?” I asked, glancing at the food.
“Lunch.”
I almost looked at him.
“Obviously.”
Silence, then… “Chicken. Rice. Vegetables,” flat, like reading off a report. I nodded once.
“Thank you.”
The words came out before I could stop them and that… that made him pause.
Just slightly, like he hadn’t expected it. Then a small nod, barely there.
I took a bite, chewed slowly not because I was trying to but because my body felt slower, everything felt slower.
He didn’t leave, that was the part that unsettled me. He stayed, standing a few steps away. Not sitting or moving, just there… Watching, not obviously but enough.
“You don’t have something else to do?” I asked finally.
“I do.”
“Then why are you here?”
A pause, then…
“Does it hurt?” he asked. The question came out unexpectedly, I glanced at my ankle.
“…Yes.”
“How much?”
I hesitated, then…
“Enough.” He nodded once, like that was sufficient, that was all he needed to know.
“You should take the medication when it arrives,” he added.
“I will.”
“Don’t skip it.”
“I won’t.”
A pause.
Then… “and don’t walk on it.”
“…You’ve said that already.”
“I’m repeating it.”
“I noticed.”
“…If you need anything,” he said, “tell them.” Not tell me… them. He’s consistent… always consistent, I nodded. “I know.”
He looked at me one last time, then walked out. The door closed behind him, and I sat there for a while, still holding the tray. Still processing, because something about that…didn’t fit. He brought the food himself, stayed, asked questions. Repeated instructions and yet… kept his distance, never crossed that line. I exhaled slowly.
“…You’re confusing,” I murmured, not that he could hear it.
- Writer
