Chapter 19
1119 Words
Late Morning
Elena's POV
Elena sat cross-legged on the floor of the sunlit art room, a blank canvas before her and Emma beside her, carefully mimicking the strokes she saw Elena make.
She held the brush loosely, trying to focus on painting the flowers in front of her, but her hand felt heavier than usual.
She paused, letting the brush hover over the canvas. It was as if her body was conspiring against her, refusing to obey the gentle commands she gave it.
A flicker of worry pricked her, but she brushed it aside.
She ignored it at first, thinking it was just fatigue. The medications had always left her tired before, but this felt different. Her head throbbed slightly, and a flutter of dizziness rose in her chest.
Emma noticed immediately. She tilted her head, eyes wide and concerned, her small hands hovering over the palette as though unsure whether to help.
She reached out, pressing her tiny fingers gently against Elena’s arm.
Emma’s eyes were so expressive, that Elena felt her chest squeeze.
She forced a smile. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Just a little tired.”
But the words barely left her lips before the room turned upside down.
Her vision blurred, and she felt herself being pulled downward.
Emma froze, panic flickering across her face. She leaned toward Elena, gently pressing her hands to support her as Elena collapsed. The canvas toppled to the floor with a soft thud.
Elena barely registered the sound of paint smearing on the tiles as she slipped into darkness.
Her last thought before losing control was a helpless fear that she might let Damian down… or worse, let herself down.
Damian was already moving before he fully understood. He had been in his study reviewing reports when he heard the sudden clattering of the brush on the floor.
He was at the door in seconds, heart racing in a way no failed business deal ever had.
He found Elena on the floor, faint and pale, and Emma kneeling beside her, pressing her tiny hands to Elena’s shoulder and face.
“Elena!” he said, rushing forward. He scooped her into his arms, ignoring her slight weight and the stiffness that had always been part of her.
His eyes scanned her face, checking for the slightest sign of danger.
For a moment, he froze at the sight of her vulnerability.
It was a side of her he had never seen.
“Stay with me,” he murmured, pressing a hand to her back, feeling the rapid flutter of her heartbeat.
He carried her to the couch in the conservatory, settling her down gently.
He could see the flush of her cheeks, the slight tremor in her lips, the faint lines of worry etched beneath her eyes.
He wanted to fix it all, to erase every pain she carried, but all he could do was hold her.
Emma stayed close, crawling up beside her silently, her soft hand was placed on Elena’s arm
He called Nolan, instructing him to cancel all meetings for the day. Nothing mattered but her. He watched as Nolan left quickly, then turned back to Elena.
She stirred, lips parting in a soft sigh. Her eyes fluttered open.
“You… you are here,” she whispered weakly.
“Of course,” he said, brushing damp strands of hair from her face. “I am not going anywhere.”
Her hand twitched toward his. Damian noticed, leaned down slightly, resting a hand near hers.
Minutes passed. Hours, it seemed. Elena’s breathing finally slowed down. The pounding in her head faded just slightly under his watch.
She closed her eyes for a while.
When she finally opened her eyes again, Damian was asleep, head resting against the couch armrest, fingers still near hers. His shoulders had relaxed.
Emma, quietly, crawled closer to Elena, pressing her cheek to Elena’s arm, small hands still resting protectively.
At that moment, the three of them… Elena, Damian, and Emma formed a perfect circle of warmth.
Elena’s chest tightened. Relief, yes, but also whatever she had been feeling for weeks was now clear.
Damian had stopped everything for her. He had stayed awake while she recovered. He had made her safety his priority without asking for anything in return.
She reached out, almost instinctively, and touched his hand. His fingers twitched, curled slightly around hers, but he didn’t wake up. She smiled faintly, letting her palm rest against his.
Emma’s small hands still pressed lightly against her arm, and Elena could feel the soft rise and fall of the girl’s chest against hers.
Minutes ticked by. The faint sounds of footsteps in the halls, distant voices of staff were there, but distant, and irrelevant.
Her mind wandered, and for the first time in weeks, she let herself think of the future… not the uncertainty, cancer, or betrayals, but the possibility of making it real.
Damian’s care wasn’t about obligation or contract. And that thought gave her hope.
Slowly, she shifted her body just enough to settle closer to him. Her head came to rest near his shoulder, the brush of his arm against her cheek sending warmth through her.
Emma mirrored her, curling into the small space beside her.
Hours passed in this shared space. Elena’s eyes drifted shut again, and she allowed herself to breathe freely.
The exhaustion from the morning’s episode weighed on her,
Eventually, a soft sound broke the silence. Elena’s eyes snapped open. Damian had shifted in his sleep, slowly coming back to consciousness.
His gaze found hers instantly, and there was no surprise.
“You are awake,” he murmured, voice hoarse.
“I… I’m okay,” she whispered back. Her fingers still rested against his hand.
He adjusted slightly, lifting her hand so he could hold it fully.
“You scared me,” he said softly. “Don’t do that again.”
“I didn’t mean to,” she murmured.
Elena let her forehead rest lightly against his arm, breathing in the quiet scent of him, the faint traces of cologne mingled with the natural warmth of his skin.
Damian’s other hand came up to brush a strand of hair from her face, lingering against her cheek in a gesture that was intimate without needing to be labeled.
Emma shifted slightly, pressing closer, and Elena smiled faintly down at her. She pressed a gentle kiss to the top of the girl’s head.
Damian’s gaze softened as he watched the small interaction.
The day went on. No one spoke much. The art room had been abandoned, the canvas on the floor forgotten.
Elena let herself stay here, in the quiet circle of two people who had become her entire world.
- Writer
