(Angela’s POV)
William stepped closer, his hands slightly raised as if approaching something that could break if not handled cautiously.
“Please, just breathe, slowly, for me. I can see it in your chest… you’re straining your heart again.”
His words pressed against my ego. I hated being reminded of my heart condition, yet there was something in the tone of his voice—it wasn’t domineering, nor patronizing, but intentional and tender.
He was pleading rather than instructing. The very compassion that made me fall in love with him.
I tried to mask the way my hand pressed harder against my ribcage, how each breath required more effort than it should.
“Don’t,” I shouted, shaking my head in a show of aggression, pretending not to notice my own voice.
“Don’t use my health as a way to make
