The past few days have been a blur of pain, rest, and Grace. More than ever, she’s been there—far closer than before, helping me with things I’m too damn stubborn to admit I need help with. She’s quiet, but every action speaks volumes. Whether it's her bringing me food, adjusting my pillows, or forcing me to eat even when I tell her I’m not hungry. She refuses to listen when I say I’m fine, insisting I need to rest. And despite how badly I hate being seen as vulnerable, I don’t push her away.
I’m sitting up now, a little more comfortably, thanks to her adjusting the pillows behind my back. Grace’s fingers brush over my arm as she pulls the blanket up, ensuring I’m warm. It’s odd—this level of care. I’ve had plenty of people around me, loyal men, even women who threw themselves at me for t
