The Cure Is You

Emotions.

°ADRIAN°

“Yes, sir. The card was last swiped at a hospital.”

The moment the words left his mouth, a million questions struck my mind. That's not what I expected.

A hospital?

Why would she be at a hospital?

Questions churned in my head, relentless and unforgiving. Had she paid someone’s bill? Was it out of necessity? Charity? A calculated move to appear noble? Or was this a ploy, another angle I couldn’t yet see?

Was she truly that selfless?

The word didn’t sit well. It clashed with the Serena I had constructed in my mind—the little gold digger who married me for money and power. Opportunistic. Manipulative. A woman who knew exactly what she was doing at all times.

And yet, here she was, standing in front of me, arms crossed. Her posture was defensive, but not combative. I caught the faint trace of tears clinging to her cheeks, her nose tinged pink from crying.

She looked...

Cute.

Damn it, Adrian. Stop.

It doesn’t matter.

“Fine. Go,” I said, waving her off dismissively, trying to shake the thoughts away.

“Go?” she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief.

“Yes. Go to your room.”

I expected her to turn and leave. Most people did when I dismissed them. But not Serena.

“Excuse me?” she said, her voice rising in defiance. “You accuse me of things I never did or would do, and now that I’ve proved myself, you’re just going to dismiss me?”

Her words hit harder than I wanted to admit, cutting through my carefully constructed indifference.

“What else do you want?” I snapped, irritation bubbling to the surface.

Why did she keep pushing?

She stepped closer, her arms falling to her sides, her hands balled into small fists. “A sorry wouldn’t kill you.”

A sorry.

Two syllables. A simple word. It shouldn’t have been so hard to say.

But the thought of giving in—of letting her see even the smallest crack in my resolve—made my chest tighten.

“You proved yourself,” I said flatly, my tone deliberately cold. “What am I sorry about?”

Her eyes narrowed, the fire now fully ignited. “You’re unbelievable,” she said, shaking her head in frustration. “You accused me wrongly, made me feel like dirt under your shoes, and now you don’t think that deserves an apology?”

I clenched my jaw, the weight of her words pressing on me.

Apologizing meant admitting I was wrong.

And I hated being wrong.

But it wasn’t just about pride. It was about control. About power. About not giving her, or anyone else, leverage over me.

Because if I apologized, if I showed even a sliver of vulnerability, what would that mean?

Would she see it as a victory? Would she think she could manipulate me?

Or worse... would it mean that I cared how she felt?

“I didn’t accuse you,” I said after a pause, my voice colder than I intended. “I questioned your actions. There’s a difference.”

Her laugh was sharp and humorless. “You questioned me as if I’d already been convicted.”

I didn’t respond.

Because she was right.

And that realization gnawed at me, stirring an unfamiliar guilt I wasn’t ready to confront.

Why did I always assume the worst of her?

Because it was easier.

Easier to believe she was just another Evelyn, another manipulator who would take everything and leave me hollow.

Or maybe because if I didn’t, I’d have to confront the possibility that she was more than that.

She crossed her arms again, her gaze unyielding. “You know what, Adrian? Forget it. Expecting anything from you is useless. Heartless guy.”

Her words should have rolled off me like water on glass.

Instead, they hit me like a punch to the gut.

Heartless guy?

Am I treating her unfairly? Am I... cruel?

Why does it even matter what she thinks of me?

It shouldn’t. It doesn’t.

I watched as she turned on her heel, her steps brisk and purposeful, her back straight with pride. But just as she reached the door, she paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob.

Without turning, she said softly, almost as if she were speaking more to herself than me, “But don’t treat everyone as if they’re beneath you. We’re humans, Adrian. We have emotions too.”

And with that, she opened the door and walked out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I sat there for a long time, staring at the space she’d just vacated, the air still heavy with the weight of her words.

Humans. Emotions.

She spoke as if I’d forgotten those concepts entirely.

Had I?

The guilt I’d tried to suppress roared to life, clawing at my resolve.

She wasn’t Evelyn.

At least, not at this moment.

Evelyn had never done anything selflessly. She’d only ever taken, consumed, destroyed.

But Serena...

Her words lingered, refusing to be dismissed.

'We have emotions too.'

Yes, emotions.

And I didn’t want to feel them.

Emotions make you vulnerable. They gave others power over you.

That’s why I’d built walls—walls so high and so thick that no one could break through.

Not Evelyn. Not anyone.

And certainly not Serena.

But as much as I hated it, as much as I wanted to deny it, she had an effect on me. A power over me.

She made me feel.

Anger. Frustration. Guilt.

And something else.

Something dangerous.

She was chipping away at my walls, brick by brick. Or maybe she’d already broken through.

Damn it, Adrian. Get a grip.

I fisted my hands on the armrest, the leather cool against my skin, grounding me as the storm of thoughts swirled within.

I wouldn’t let her get to me.

I couldn’t.

Because if I did, if I let her see the cracks, if I let her in...I’d lose.

And I couldn’t afford to lose.

Not again.

Not ever.