Chapter 8
1281 Words
Lora’s POV
“You’re hiding something.”
Drake’s words broke through my thoughts, settling into the room like they belonged there.
For some moments, I almost assumed I had imagined hearing the words.
My fingers tightened slightly against the sheets.
For a moment, I said nothing. I told myself it was because I didn’t understand what he meant, that I needed a second to process it.
But that wasn’t true. I understood perfectly.
“I’m not hiding anything,” I said finally, keeping my voice even.
Drake didn’t respond or argue or challenge me. He simply watched.
And somehow, that was worse.
The silence stretched between us, thick and deliberate, pressing in from all sides. I forced myself to hold his gaze for a second longer before looking away, as if I had nothing to prove.
As if there was nothing to see.
“Does it hurt?”
The question came out calm, almost casual, but there was nothing casual about the way he was looking at me.
“My side?” I asked, as though I needed clarification.
His gaze didn’t shift.
“Yes.”
“A little,” I said, adjusting slightly against the pillow.
“It’s nothing serious.”
A lie.
“When did it start?”
I paused for half a second too long.
“After I got here,” I replied.
Another lie.
I could feel it now, the way the conversation wasn’t moving randomly. He wasn’t asking because he cared about the wound.
He was watching how I answered, testing me.
My chest tightened slightly.
“You should rest,” I added, shifting the focus away from myself. “You’ve been here long enough.”
“I know.”
My fingers curled faintly into the sheets.
“Then why are you still here?” I asked, unable to stop myself.
For a brief second, something flickered in his expression. I couldn’t place what it was, but it definitely wasn’t irritation or amusement.
“Because you’re not fine.”
The words landed heavier than I expected.
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out immediately. My throat felt tight, like anything I said would sound wrong.
“I said I am,” I insisted, softer this time.
He didn’t answer. But his gaze dropped. Not to the bandage, not to my face.
Lower.
My breath caught before I could stop it.
A faint twist rolled through my stomach again, sharper this time, unexpected and unwelcome. I forced myself to stay still, to breathe through it without reacting, but the discomfort lingered just long enough to betray me.
I shifted slightly. Just a small movement.
But it was enough.
The air in the room changed. I could feel it.
Slowly, without thinking, my hand lifted.
It hovered for a fraction of a second before I pressed it lightly against my stomach.
The moment I realized what I had done, I froze.
I pulled my hand back quickly, letting it rest beside me like it had never moved.
Like nothing had happened.
But when I looked up—he was staring at me.
He didn’t question it. Didn’t call attention to it. Didn’t even react in a way that I could push back against.
He said nothing but the weight of his attention lingered enough to make my skin feel too tight.
And the longer he watched, the more it felt like he was putting something together piece by piece.
“You should get some rest,” he said after a moment.
The shift was so sudden it caught me off guard.
I blinked. “I am resting.”
“Not like this.”
Before I could respond, he stood.
The movement was smooth, controlled, effortless in a way that made everything else feel more unstable.
He stepped closer, adjusting the pillow behind me slightly before I could stop him. His hand brushed briefly against my shoulder, steadying me as he repositioned it.
The contact was brief.
“Lie back.”
It didn’t sound like a request. I hesitated for half a second, then did as he said.
My body sank slightly into the mattress, the tension in my shoulders easing just enough to make me aware of how tight I had been holding myself.
“There’s no reason for you to move around unnecessarily,” he continued, his tone calm. “You’ll stay here tonight.”
“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” I muttered.
“Good.”
My lips pressed together.
Something about the way he said it made it sound less like agreement and more like confirmation of a decision he had already made.
He stepped back then, creating just enough distance to make the air feel colder.
But not enough to make me comfortable.
I watched him as he moved toward the door, my thoughts tangled, uneven.
Had I done too much?
Did he notice anything?
Did he—
Then I saw him pause.
My breath caught.
For a moment, I thought he was going to say something else. Ask another question. Push just a little further.
But he didn’t.
“Get some rest.”
The words were quiet. But they didn’t feel that way.
I nodded faintly, even though I wasn’t sure he was looking at me anymore.
The door opened. Then closed behind him.
The sound was soft, but it echoed in my chest like something final.
Silence settled over the room again, heavier this time, pressing down on me until I could finally breathe without feeling watched.
I exhaled slowly, my body sinking deeper into the mattress. Every muscle ached, not just from the cut, but from the tension I had been holding since the moment I stepped into that house.
He didn’t know.
He couldn’t.
My fingers curled slightly against the sheets before moving, almost on instinct, resting lightly over my stomach.
Everything was still under control.
It had to be.
Because if Drake found out—
I squeezed my eyes shut, cutting the thought off before it could fully form.
No.
I wouldn’t let that happen.
I couldn’t.
Not now. Not when everything was still so fragile.
The room felt quieter with that decision, like I had forced the chaos back into place, locked it somewhere deep where it couldn’t reach me.
For now, I was safe. Or at least, I wanted to believe I was.
……………………………..
Drake’s POV
I didn’t go far.
The door closed behind me, and I stopped just outside, my hand still on the handle for a second longer than necessary.
Something wasn’t right. But it wasn’t what she said. It was everything she avoided.
Bruno was already there when I turned.
“Sir.”
“Run a full check,” I said without hesitating or giving any explanation.
He paused. “On Mrs. Grayson?”
I looked at him then. “Yes.”
That was enough.
Still, I added, quieter, more deliberate, “No omissions. I want everything.”
A brief silence stretched between us.
“And don’t inform her.” I said.
Bruno didn’t question it this time. “Understood.”
He stepped away, already pulling out his phone.
I stayed where I was. My gaze shifted back to the door.
The door was closed but I could still picture it. The way her body tensed before the doctor finished speaking.
The way her voice came too quickly.
And the way she constantly moved her hand.
My jaw tightened.
She thought I didn’t notice. She was wrong.
“She’s hiding something,” I said under my breath.
And I don’t tolerate secrets, not in my house and definitely not from my wife.
Whatever she was hiding, I would uncover it.
- Writer
