Time and Silence
832 Words
August stood frozen at the side of the bed. His mind was in a blank slate.
What could he possibly say to her? Every word he had ever directed at her had been a weapon... insults, a cold command, or a growled threat.
He didn't know how to speak to her without the armour of his hatred.
The older nurse, sensing the awkwardness in his silence, softened her gaze slightly. She stepped forward and placed a steady, grounding hand on his shoulder.
"You can do this," she whispered, her voice no longer biting.
"Just talk. Talk about anything. The sky, the bird, the river... It doesn't have to be perfect. Just... tell her whatever you like."
Then the nurse left.
August swallowed hard, his throat felt dry leaves murmuring. He cleared it, adjusting his tone, though he felt anything but powerful.
"Ahem..." He looked at her pale, still face.
"Hi. Ahm... I suppose... we never really got a chance for a proper introduction, did we? I don't even know how to talk to you when I'm not shouting.”
He let out a short, breathy sound that was supposed to be a laugh but came out as a sigh.
"I'm August Harrington. To the world, I’m known as a tyrant. And probably... to you as well. More than anyone else."
He looked down at his shoes, then back at her.
"I don't really know how to start a conversation like this. Everyone around me has always been too afraid to talk back, so I never learned to listen. As a Harrington heir, I grew up in a cage of high expectations and strict eyes. Being normal... it’s the one thing I was never taught how to be."
He stopped, realizing he was stammering.
"And see? How my topic is drifting from here to there... I’m making this about me again. I’m sorry."
He fell quiet then. The words he truly wanted to say—the ones about the bathtub were still stuck behind a wall of shame.
He just sat there, the silence stretching between them, until a sharp knock at the door broke the spell.
"President."
Fanel was standing in the doorway, his chest heaving slightly as if he’d been running.
"President, I’ve secured the specialists. They’re flying in from overseas as we speak. They should be here by tomorrow morning."
"That’s better," August said, his professionalism sliding back into place. It was a relief to have a problem he could solve with money.
"Anything else?"
"Eh... President, about the board meeting this afternoon—"
"Cancel it," August interrupted.
"Reschedule everything. Clear my calendar until further notice. And Fanel? Bring Luba here. Immediately."
Luba arrived twenty minutes later, her eyes red-rimmed and her hands twisting the fabric of her apron. She looked like she expected to be fired, or worse.
"Young Master... you called?" she asked, her voice shaking so hard it was difficult to understand her.
August didn't snap at her. He just looked at her with an exhausting intensity.
"I need you to stay here, Luba. To take care of... He looked at her pale face again... Her. If anyone comes to see her... He stopped for a second before continuing- anyone at all—you must not allow them to enter. Do you understand me?"
Luba blinked, stunned by the authority in his tone that lacked its usual coldness.
"Yes, Young Master. I... I'll remember."
"I mean everyone," August continued, his eyes darkening.
"Even if my mother or my sisters show up. I’ll have bodyguards stationed outside to back you up. And Luba?"
"Yes, Young Master?"
"No one is allowed to say a single negative thing in this room. From now on, she'll only hear what is good. What is peaceful? If I find out someone has upset her, I’ll hold you responsible."
Luba nodded assertively, her fear being replaced by a strange sense of mission.
"As you say, Young Master. I won't let a fly in if they have an unkind word."
"Okay."
August stood up slowly. He looked down at his hand, which was still resting near Spring’s palm. He hesitated for a heartbeat before pulling it away.
"Take care of her. Carefully," he whispered.
He walked toward the exit, pausing at the threshold to take one last look at the girl under the sheets. She looked so small in that bed.
Once the door clicked shut and the tread of August’s boots faded down the hall, Luba moved closer to the bed.
She took a seat in the chair August had vacated and reached out to smooth the hair away from Spring’s forehead.
"Miss... Spring," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Can you hear me?"
Luba stroked her hair gently.
"Wake up soon. See? Our Young Master... he changed... He’s different now. Maybe..."
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- Writer
