Chapter Four
840 Words
The headache came on slowly.
Not sharp enough to be pain—just a steady pressure behind Karma’s eyes, like a storm building far away. She lay still in the narrow hospital bed, listening to the soft hum of machines and the muted sounds of the pack moving beyond the walls.
Pack.
The word sat strangely in her mind. She tried not to dwell on it.
“You’re clenching your jaw.”
Xavier’s voice was low, closer now.
Karma startled, realizing she hadn’t noticed him pull a chair to her bedside. He sat with his forearms resting on his knees, posture relaxed but watchful, as if he’d been there longer than she remembered.
“I get headaches,” she said quickly, the words automatic. “Stress.”
His gaze didn’t leave her face. “How long?”
“Long enough,” she replied, then softened it. “I’m fine.”
The lie slid easily into place. It always had.
Xavier nodded once, accepting it without pushing. But his eyes narrowed just slightly, as if committing the detail to memory.
The silence stretched—comfortable, oddly so. Karma hadn’t realized how tightly wound she’d been until it loosened in his presence. Her breathing evened. The pressure in her head dulled.
That scared her more than the pain.
“How long was I out?” she asked, even though she already knew.
“Four days,” he said. “Your body shut down. You kept pushing when you shouldn’t have.”
Something flickered across her face before she could stop it.
“I didn’t have a choice.”
His jaw tightened. “There’s always a choice.”
She met his gaze then, something sharp and tired in her eyes. “Not when staying gets you killed.”
The words fell between them, heavy and revealing. Karma immediately looked away, pulse spiking, instinct screaming that she’d said too much.
Xavier didn’t press.
“That headache,” he said instead, voice careful, “does it feel like pressure? Or heat?”
She stiffened—just barely.
“Pressure,” she answered after a beat. “Like I haven’t slept in weeks.”
True enough.
He studied her again, slower this time, as if listening to something beyond her words. “If it gets worse, tell the nurse.”
“I will.”
Another lie. Smaller. Necessary.
Outside the room, voices passed—footsteps, murmurs, life continuing without her permission. Karma felt suddenly exposed, trapped in a place where people noticed things.
She pulled the blanket tighter around herself.
“I won’t stay long,” she said, testing him. “Once I’m cleared.”
Xavier leaned back slightly. “We’ll talk about that later.”
Her stomach tightened. “That wasn’t a question.”
“No,” he agreed calmly.
The pressure in her head pulsed once, dull and insistent, as if something inside her bristled at his certainty. She squeezed her eyes shut briefly, riding it out.
Xavier noticed.
“You don’t like being told what to do,” he said.
“I don’t like being cornered.”
A pause.
“You’re not cornered here,” he said quietly. “Not by me.”
She opened her eyes. His gaze held hers—steady, unwavering, offering something dangerously close to trust.
Her chest tightened. That strange pull stirred again, faint but unmistakable, as if her body leaned toward him even while her mind resisted.
She shifted, breaking the moment. “Why did you bring me here?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Because you needed help.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
His lips pressed together, considering. “Because you were alone. And collapsing in the street wasn’t an option.”
Karma swallowed. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know.”
The simplicity of it undid her.
The headache throbbed again—stronger this time, spreading across her temples. She hissed softly before she could stop herself.
Xavier was on his feet instantly, hand hovering near her shoulder without touching. “That’s not nothing.”
“I said I’m fine,” she insisted, though her voice wavered.
He didn’t move closer. Didn’t force comfort she hadn’t asked for. He simply waited.
The pressure eased after a moment, leaving her drained but steady.
“I’ve had worse,” she said quietly.
“I believe that,” he replied.
Their eyes met again, something unspoken passing between them. Karma felt seen in a way that unsettled her—not for what she was, but for what she carried.
Hiding had kept her alive.
She wasn’t ready to stop.
Xavier exhaled slowly, as if coming to a decision. “Get some rest. I’ll be nearby.”
“You don’t have to stay.”
“I know,” he said again. Then, softer, “I want to.”
He turned and left before she could respond.
Karma lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding. The headache lingered, dull and persistent, like something tapping from the inside.
Not awake.
Not asleep.
Waiting.
- Writer
