Page 85 of The Pakhan's Forced Bride
She is everything I want. She isallI want. The only reason I lived through being shot was because I heard her voice. I was ready to let go and move on. But she pulled me back. She is the only thing that matters.
But I hurt her, and I can’t ask her to be with me, not if it’s going to cause issues between her and her family.
I have to enjoy whatever time I have with her and just let things unfold as they are meant to.
When Belle comes back into the room, she carefully climbs onto the bed next to me. My heart races at her being this close. She doesn’t sit like she used to, leaning against my chest, letting me hold her. But she sits cross-legged, at my side, facing me, her thigh touching my leg, her smile turned towards me.
She sets a tray of snacks down between us.
“I didn’t know what you’d want.” She smiles the most beautiful smile.
I glance at the tray.
Donuts, chocolate, cold cuts, cheese, a small bowl of mac and cheese, and heart-shaped gummies. The odd but flavorful mix of options makes me chuckle as I carefully place my hand over my stomach to stop it from moving too much and hurting.
“Only you—would put—such a good—mix—together,” I say, though slow breaths.
“Don’t speak,” she says, her brows knitting with worry. “I’ll talk to you, and you can just enjoy your snacks. So, what can I tell you…"
She talks about the book she’s been reading. She tells me about being back in Vegas and how she had a fight with her mom and told her she refused to go on any more horrible dates. She seems proud of standing up for herself, but shy when my eyes drift to her hand and see she’s still wearing the ring. I want to ask her, but it doesn’t feel right. She hides her hand beneath her leg and talks about something else until my eyes drift, heavy with tiredness again.
Every day, Belle is at my side as my strength grows. I work with a physiotherapist who comes to see me twice a day, and I get stronger.
Instead of just listening, I talk, too. We talk about places we want to travel, food we want to try, movies we’ve seen—anything but the most important thing, that I love her. That I want to be with her forever.
The physio tells me I’m doing well enough to start moving around freely on my own. I tell him the pain is still too much, even though it isn’t. He understands and tells me it can take time, and I shouldn’t feel rushed. I should heal in my own time.
The truth is, I’m healed more than I need to be. I could easily go home and take care of myself—but then I lose her.
It’s been almost six weeks living in this room, cared for by the people Benedikt has sent to take care of me. I don’t care about any of them—I only want her. I can’t bear the thought of leaving her.
The second time the physiotherapist tells me I’m doing really well and can start getting back to my life, I can’t delay any longer.
Belle is sitting on the sofa by the window reading, and when she hears this news, she perks up, excited for me.
Her eyes are bright as she jumps up. “This is amazing,” she squeals, running to me to hug me. “I knew you’d be back to yourself soon.”
There is nothing I can do. My time with her is up.
The physiotherapist packs up and wishes me luck, then leaves.
My body is strong. My wounds are healed, inside and out.
I can move easily, I don’t need pain medication.
Belle is smiling up at me, pressed against my side, her arm wrapped around my waist. I reach down to brush hair out of her eyes.
“How about you make me one of your famous snack platters?”
“You’re hungry?” she says, her eyes widening. “I’ll put the best one together. You won’t even be able to guess the assortment I’ll put on this one.” She giggles and leaves the room.
As soon as she’s gone, I head out of the room too. I have to find Benedikt. He and I need to talk. I’ve exhausted my stay here, and it’s time for me to fight harder for her.
Benedikt is upstairs in his sunroom.
He’s reading a newspaper, sipping coffee when I walk in.
“Ardalion, you're looking strong,” he says casually.
