Chapter 74: 74
The soft beeping of a machine pulled me back to consciousness. Slowly, I opened my eyes and found myself in a white room. My gaze wandered, taking in the sterile surroundings, the plain walls, the faint scent of disinfectant, and the steady hum of medical equipment. It didn’t take long to realize I was once again in the place I’d grown far too familiar with, the hospital room.
I let out a quiet sigh and turned to my side, only to find Nix sound asleep beside me. His red hair was tousled, falling across his face as he rested his head on the small space left on the bed. One of his hands was wrapped gently around mine as if fearing that I’ll slip away.
A smile tugged at my lips as I watched him sleep so peacefully. It had been months since I’d last seen him like this, at ease, and unburdened. The morning sun caught the chain around his wrist, its glint making my smile grow even wider.
"You still have this on" I smiled and that’s when I noticed the locket chain he was wearing on his neck. I didn’t remember him ever wearing one, or maybe I’d just never paid attention. It was slightly open, and curiosity got the better of me. I sat up a little, hoping to sneak a glance at the picture inside. But before I could, his grip on my hand tightened, and he stirred awake.
"Good morning," I said softly, offering him a small smile. He returned it before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.
"How are you feeling now?" he asked.
"Better," I replied, watching him nod as he sat back down.
But even with him here, so close, so real something about the moment felt... off. There was a strange unease settling in my chest, like the calm before a storm I couldn’t name.. or maybe I could
"You must love your mum a lot," I commented, my eyes lingering on the locket around his neck. Noticing my gaze, he took it off and, without a word, gently placed it around my neck.
"I honestly do," he said softly, "but someone else I love a lot is you and that’s why I’m passing this on to you." He rubbed the back of my hand with his palm, his warm gesture bringing an unconscious smile to my face.
"What kind of woman was your first love?" I asked curiously.
As if my question came with some sort of prize for a proper answer, he straightened up, adjusted his shirt, and crossed his right leg over the other. Letting out a deep breath, he began.
"Let’s say... kind, but not kind," he said, his tone thoughtful. "You see, as a child, I was naughty. Very naughty," he exaggerated with wide eyes, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
"I never liked associating with peas.. I mean, people. So I would always run away from school trips. Dad never found out, but the moment I got home, I’d always be confronted by Mum. And there was no way I could lie about the trip being cancelled, she always knew everything and anything I wanted to do" He paused, smiling at the memory.
"So I’d just come clean and say, ’Mama, I ran away.’ And she wouldn’t even scold me. Instead, she’d say she wouldn’t tell Dad but that was always a lie. Because the moment I got into my room, she was already dialing his number."
I placed a hand over my mouth, stifling a laugh, my eyes wide with amusement. My shoulders shook as I tried to hold in the giggles, touched by the image of little Nix caught in the act, again and again.
"I knew Dad would want to punish me," he continued, "but Mum always stood in the way. She’d be like, ’He shouldn’t be punished.’"
"So your dad was the strict one?" I raised an eyebrow, watching him shake his head.
"No, my mum was," he replied with a chuckle. "I hated beans growing up, but as long as my classmates were away on those school trips, I had to eat beans. And whenever I tried to protest, she’d say, ’If you had gone on that trip, you might’ve had your choice of food.’ So while everyone else enjoyed something different, I sat there... eating beans."
He smiled, clearly lost in nostalgia, and I watched him quietly. Comparing this playful version of him to the hardened, emotionally guarded man I first met felt like looking at two completely different people. I finally understood what the butler meant when he said Nix had changed after his parents passed.
"So... did you ever start going on the trips?" I asked, curious.
"No."
"And what did your Dad do?"
He laughed. "Nothing. He just stood on the sidelines, watching me serve my punishment. And whenever he tried to interfere, he’d get roped in too. Afterward, Mum would take both of us to church on Saturday and ask us to pray for mercy because, according to her, we had sinned and were a pair of lying father and son."
"She sounds... intense," I said, smiling.
"She was. A very religious woman. Kiara definitely got that trait from her," he said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair.
"And you?" I asked.
"I took after my dad. And Xavier... he’s just somewhere in between," he replied with a laugh, shaking his head.
The atmosphere between us felt light, like a soft breeze on a warm morning. The weight that had hung in the air earlier had lifted, replaced by gentle laughter and the quiet comfort of shared stories. It was one of those rare, precious moments where the world outside faded, and all that existed was this.. us.
"I’m sorry to interrupt your lovely moment, but I need to check on my patient," a familiar voice said.
I looked up to find Zamiel standing at the door, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.
"Hello, little bunny," he said with a teasing tone. "Time for your check-up. Mr. Dean, if you don’t mind."
His eyes narrowed slightly at Nix, whose entire demeanor had shifted the moment Zamiel entered the room. His warmth vanished, replaced by cold silence. Were they arguing? Or was it something deeper?
"Beloved, I’ll be back," Nix said softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. I nodded, watching as he gave Zamiel one last pointed glance before leaving the room.
Zamiel stepped closer, pulling the stethoscope from around his neck with practiced ease.
"Don’t you two make a lovely couple?" he scoffed.
I narrowed my eyes at him and sat up straighter, feeling the tension rise like a tide.
"What’s going on between the two of you?"
He smirked, but there was a flicker of something else in his gaze weariness, perhaps. Bitterness.
"Nothing," he said casually. "Just helping his wife keep her little secret."
I froze hearing his words and knowing what he was hinting at
"When are you finally going to tell him the truth?" he continued, voice quieter now, with less mocking. "You know, I almost got killed trying to hide it."
His words struck like cold water, and I felt the shift within me, sharp, sudden, and unwelcome.
The room seemed colder. My fingers curled slightly into the sheets as the memory crept in dark and suffocating. My breath caught in my throat.
That day... the one I tried so hard not to think about. The blood. The chaos. The brief moment I thought, ’this is it’ .. the end of my story. My death day wasn’t a distant shadow anymore. It loomed far too close. Closer than I’d ever dared admit. The warmth Nix left behind was already fading.
And all I could do was stare ahead, heart pounding, throat tight, as the weight of the secret I carried pressed harder against my chest.
"How many days do I have left?" My voice was barely a whisper, but he still heard me.
"Approximately a month," Zamiel replied quietly.
"He’s going to be heartbroken when I leave."
"Heartbroken?" He scoffed softly. "No, little bunny... he’ll be shattered."
I looked up, tears clouding my vision, only to meet the calm, unbothered expression on Zamiel’s face as he began my checkup.
"I’m a terrible person, aren’t I?" I muttered.
"Terrible?" He arched his brow. "That’s an understatement, you’re worse than that."
The words hit me harder than I expected, and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my cheeks. Wasn’t he supposed to make me feel better, not worse?
"What kind of friend are you?" I asked, my voice trembling.
He sighed, then leaned forward and pulled me into a gentle hug.
"I’m the kind who gives you a reality check," he murmured against my hair. "Don’t hate me too much, little bunny. If my friends are going to end up in pain, I’d better start preparing myself to be their emotional support.. or even more their enemies"