Guarded Hearts

Chapter 8:Fragments of Trust

Kim Pov

The doctor was already waiting for me in her office when I arrived. She greeted me with a polite smile, but no amount of kindness could ease the tension twisting in my stomach. I hated hospitals. The smell of antiseptic, the sterile walls, the way everything felt so… exposed.

"Have a seat, Kim," she said gently, pulling on a pair of gloves.

I obeyed, watching as she reached for a pair of scissors. The cold metal brushed against my skin as she carefully cut away the cast on my arm. I tried not to watch, but the sensation—the light tugging, the odd release of pressure—made my stomach churn.

When the cast was finally off, she gently took my wrist, moving my arm in slow, deliberate motions. Her fingers pressed lightly against my skin, testing the flexibility of the healed bone.

"Everything seems fine," she said after a moment. "The movements are natural, and the bone has healed nicely. How are you feeling?"

I flexed my fingers slightly, unsure how to answer.

"Okay, I guess," I murmured. "Thank you."

Her warm smile reassured me, but I knew I wasn’t done yet.

She continued her examination, moving behind me. The moment her hands touched my back, a chill ran down my spine.

It wasn’t pain. Not exactly.

It was something deeper, something that made me want to curl in on myself.

She pressed lightly against my shoulder blades, tracing the faint ridges of healing wounds. I stared blankly at the wall in front of me, forcing myself to stay still. Her touch was clinical, professional, but it still felt like every painful memory was being dragged back to the surface.

"The back wounds are healing very well, Kim," she said, her voice gentle. "I’m glad to see that. Within a few months, the scars could disappear completely."

I pinched the fabric of my hoodie between my fingers.

"And… if there will be scars?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"If anything remains, they’ll be faint. Almost invisible," she assured me. "Nothing to be ashamed of."

Nothing to be ashamed of.

As if it were that simple.

She continued her examination, this time moving to my thighs. I didn’t flinch. I was used to this by now. Used to the sight of the scars. Used to the feeling of them under my fingertips.

But she still looked at me with that same expression of quiet compassion.

"And these are healing well too," she said. "Keep following the instructions I gave you. You're a fighter, Kim."

A fighter.

I didn’t feel like one.

I left the office feeling lighter but not completely relieved. The doctor had said all the right things, but I knew healing wasn’t just about the body.

Some wounds ran deeper.

---

Outside, Erik was sitting in his car, phone pressed to his ear. His expression was serious, but the moment he saw me approaching, he ended the call and opened the door for me.

"How was it?" he asked as I slid into the passenger seat. "What did the doctor say?"

"I'm fine," I said, waving my arm in front of me in demonstration. "All good."

He nodded, satisfied.

"Do you need anything from the pharmacy? Medication? Anything?"

"No… no, thank you."

His care was so effortless, so natural, that it almost made me feel guilty. I wasn’t used to this. To someone checking in on me without expecting anything in return.

I turned to the window, watching the city blur past. The question slipped out before I could stop it.

"Why are you doing this?"

He glanced at me briefly before returning his focus to the road.

"What exactly?"

"Helping me," I clarified. "Even though we don’t really know each other."

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel, as if considering his response. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm.

"Because you’ve only seen the ugly side of people," he said simply. "Your father took away your faith in the world, and I want to help you get it back."

I felt my throat tighten.

"You’re young, Kim," he continued. "You still have time to make friends, to go out, to learn that not everyone is like him."

His words hit me harder than I expected.

I had spent so long assuming people only wanted to hurt me. That kindness came with conditions. But Erik… he never pushed. Never asked for anything.

"Thank you, Erik," I whispered.

He didn’t respond right away, but I caught the faintest hint of a smile before he turned his attention back to the road.

---

When we got back to the apartment, Erik lingered near the door, his gaze flickering around the room as if lost in thought.

"Listen, Kim," he said after a moment. "Tonight, I’m staying here."

I blinked. It wasn’t the first time he’d stayed overnight, but he’d never *announced* it before.

"But don’t worry," he added quickly. "I’ll be sleeping on the couch. As usual. By the time you wake up, I’ll already be gone."

Something about the way he said it—so careful, so tactful—caught me off guard.

"You don’t have to sleep on the couch," I said softly. "You can take your bed."

He shook his head.

"You’re my guest," he said. "And I like that couch. It’s comfortable."

I studied him for a moment, trying to understand him. Trying to figure out why he was like this—so firm, so stubborn, yet so… *kind.*

In the end, I didn’t argue. There was no point.

"Okay," I murmured. "Thank you. For everything."

His expression softened, just for a second.

"Good night, Kim."

I stepped into my bedroom and closed the door, but for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel the need to lock it.

I lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

For so long, I had lived in fear. In survival mode. Always waiting for the next blow, the next cruel word, the next reminder that I was unwanted.

But tonight…

Tonight, for the first time, I felt safe.