You are a Liar

After ending the call with Raynor, Donovan switched his phone to silent. Now that he finished his essential calls, everything else could wait. His attention was now solely on Liora. The chaos, the fury, the countless unanswered questions—none of it mattered at this moment but Liora.

He pulled a chair close to her bedside and sank into it with a quiet exhale. His eyes roamed over her face, the delicate rise and fall of her chest, the faint crease in her brows even in sleep. The bruise on her forehead fueled a rage inside him so fierce it burned hotter than any fire he had ever known. But he swallowed it down, forcing himself to focus on her now. Here. Safe. With him.

She was now a grown woman, prettier than before, yet held the same innocence intact. And what didn't change over the years were the kind of emotions she woke in his heart that left him puzzled.

Gently, he reached for her left hand, cradling it in his own. His fingers traced over the faint lines of her palm as if reading a map written into her skin. Her hand was so small compared to his, fragile yet resilient, a stark contrast to the hardened grip that he had spent years wielding power. For a moment, he simply held hers, absorbing the warmth that was slowly returning to her skin, as if his touch alone was enough to bring her back to him.

Her palm fit so effortlessly between his own that it made something tighten in his chest. He pressed her hand lightly, then brought it up to his face, resting her hand against his cheek. He closed his eyes for a second, savouring the moment. It was a contrast between her softness and the roughness of his own skin. She felt pure. She felt fragile. She felt soft.

'What is it about you that unravels me like this, Liora?′ He was amused.

He had never been the type to dwell on emotions, to linger on feelings that served no immediate purpose. But Liora had been a storm from the moment she crashed into his life, shaking his control and forcing him to acknowledge things he never wanted to. Her presence brought him an emotional vulnerability, a facet of himself that he seldom displayed.

A faint smile ghosted his lips as he thought back to their encounters—the way she always managed to catch him off guard, the way she stood her ground even when she was scared, the way she looked at him as if he was an arrogant bastard without hesitation.No one else dared to.

He shifted, his other hand reaching out to brush his fingertips lightly against her cheek. Testing. Checking if she was still cold.

No, she wasn't.

The warmth had returned, and just like that, so did his own.

His lips parted slightly, a whisper escaping before he even realised it.

"Let me take care of you, my princess...."

A soft curve formed on Liora's lips as if she had heard him in her dreamland.

Then, barely above a breath, came a murmur. "Liar."

Donovan stiffened. His gaze snapped to her face, his fingers still cradling her hand. Her voice was weak, the word barely spoken, but it hit him like a direct blow to the chest.

His head tilted slightly, keeping her hand pressed against his cheek as he studied her expression. Was she awake? Or was she lost in some dream where she was scolding him?

"Liora?" His voice was cautious, testing her.

"You are a liar," she whispered again, her eyes still closed but her expression amused. "You call me princess… yet you always make me wait."

Something inside him twisted ather words—from guilt and their undeniable truth. He had always made her wait. Had held himself back when he shouldn't have. Had ignored what was in front of him when he should have fought for it.

He brought her knuckles to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss against them before whispering, "Not anymore, princess. Not anymore, Liora." His voice was softer this time, the name slipping from his lips with an unfamiliar tenderness. "Do not forgive me easily....Let me earn your forgiveness..."

Her fingers twitched in his grasp, and slowly, finally, her eyelids fluttered open, meeting his gaze, and Donovan's breath hitched.

Even half-lidded with exhaustion, her gaze still held him captive. 'How does she do that?'

She was so unbelievably real at that moment—so there—and for the first time since finding her, the tight coil in his chest unravelled.

"Are you awake?"His voice was low, searching, almost cautious. He refused to let go of her hand, just as she hadn't moved hers from his cheek. His thumb continued its slow, absentminded caress against her skin, savouring the warmth that had returned to her.

Liora's lips parted, and her voice sounded soft, hoarse, tinged with lingering sleep—slipped between them like a whispered confession.

"How can I be awake?" she murmured in her half-open eyes, dazed and unfocused on her reality. "When I keep seeing you in my dreams."

Donovan froze as he grasped Liora's words. It sent a sharp, unexpected jolt through his chest, but his expression softened instantly, curving into a breathtaking smile. His white teeth gleamed as he exhaled a quiet chuckle, his heart inexplicably light for the first time.

"Do you see me often in your dreams?" he asked, his voice dipping into something dangerously tender. The same tenderness he had never allowed himself to feel before. Not for anyone.

Liora hummed softly, her lashes fluttering as though she were still caught between reality and illusion. "You do all weird things in my dreams," she murmured, her tone almost accusing him of being an uninvited guest in her dreamland. "Holding my hand… touching my face… brushing my cheek… and—" She exhaled deeply slowly before a faint crease formed between her brows, making Donovan skip a heartbeat. "Even kissing me!" Her protest hung between them, leaving Donovan intrigued and a little flustered.

The words dropped into the silence between them like a match in gasoline. His throat went dry. His pulse surged, pounding against his ribs, erratic and loud. 'She dreamed of him kissing her?'

He swallowed hard, resisting the sheer, overwhelming urge to react—to smirk, to tease, to lean in and make her dream a reality. But instead, he bit his lower lip, suppressing whatever storm of emotions churned inside him. Excited? That was putting it mildly. He wanted to scream. Drag her up to the rooftop of the hospital and shout to the sky that she dreams of him.

Instead, he forced himself to stay composed, pressing his lips into a thin line, controlling the wild thrum of his heart.

His hand was still resting against her cheek as he moved gently. His fingers brushed her eyelids. "Sleep, princess," he whispered softly than the hush of night.

Liora, lulled by his warmth, and obeyed him without question. Her eyes closed, her breathing evening out into slow, rhythmic inhales and exhales. A few moments passed in silence before she murmured again drowsily, "I still feel your warmth…"

Donovan's lips parted, but no words came. He felt something shift inside him, something closer to ecstasy.

"I'm glad you feel that way," he whispered back, unable to stop himself. "It makes me happy."

And then, like a cruel twist of fate, her lips parted again, her voice a mere whisper, a name slipping from them like a spell cast in her dreams.

"Nova…"

Were Liora and Donovan coming closer? And were Caspian and Pearl's fates joining, creating distance between Liora and Caspian?

The following day, the sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft light stripes across Liora's room.

Donovan hadn't moved from his seat all night. He remained at Liora's side, unwavering, his fingers loosely holding hers, his thumb tracing idle circles along the back of her hand.

Every now and then, her fingers would twitch. Sometimes, she murmured softly, lost in the dream she wished he could step into and see what she was dreaming about.

Donovan had called in the best doctors, but still, the sight of her fragile form beneath the hospital sheets unsettled him. Liora should never have been here. He said to himself that she would never be in the hospital again.

The door clicked open, and the doctor entered, clipboard in hand. Donovan's sharp gaze snapped toward him, his grey eyes dark with questions.

"We need to talk about Liora's condition," the doctor began as he stood next to Donovan and closer to Liora's bed. His voice was steady and professional but not without empathy."Her test results show high levels of cortisol, norepinephrine, and epinephrine. These are all indicators of extreme distress."

A slow, burning sensation crawled up Donovan's spine. Hebitedhis inner cheek as he listened to the doctor.

"She has severe PTSD," the doctor continued, his words landing like lead in the quiet air.

Donovan exhaled sharply through his nose. His grip on Liora's hand tightened slightly. "She went through something traumatic before," he admitted, his voice unusually hushed. "And yesterday, she went through a similar situation."

The doctor nodded; his thoughts looked distant."That explains a lot. She needs professional help. Therapy and time to heal. It's crucial for her, Donovan. She must immediately take therapy sessions."

Donovan nodded once in decisive. "I'll take care of it," he said simply.

The doctor observed him for a moment, seemingly attempting to determine how much of that promise was intended for Liora and how much was directed at himself.

Donovan was well-known for maintaining a distance from his girlfriend, but seeing him yesterday with a concerned expression and the way he held Liora in his arms at the hospital had everyone on the staff discussing it.

As the doctor left, Donovan turned his full attention back to Liora.

His hand moved before he could stop himself. He leaned forward and brushed the softest kisses against her forehead, lingering just a little longer than he should have.

And then—Her lashes fluttered.

Donovan barely had time to pull back when her eyes slowly cracked open. Those familiar hazel orbs were still hazy with sleep.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. A beat. A second.

A slow recognition seeped into her gaze, and its warmth knocked the air from his lungs.

"Nova…" she whispered, her voice a delicate thread of sound. His lips parted slightly to speak, his pulse hammering in his throat. He moved away from Liora immediately.

Liora blinked up at him, still caught between wakefulness and dreams.

"What are you doing here?" Liora scanned the room, and it was not her room. "Where am I?" She asked, as her eyes fell on Donovan with questions.

"You're in the hospital," he answered, carefully schooling his expression into neutrality.

"Why?" she frowned, her voice still drowsy.

"You don't remember?" Donovan questioned as a deep frown appeared between brows.

Liora's brows furrowed in confusion. Then, all at once, realisation dawned, her body tensing. "Weren't we supposed to meet at the club? Did I hit my head? What happened?"

Donovan didn't answer her. Instead, he reached for the water bottle beside the bed, uncapping it, filling the glass and handing it to her. "You need to keep yourself hydrated."

She hesitated at first but then took it, sipping slowly. The moment she finished, she pushed the sheets aside and tried to stand up. The second she did, her body betrayed her. Her legs wobbled—her balance faltered.

Donovan caught her instantly, his arms steadying her before she could collapse."You should take things slowly."

And then—it happened. A memory crashed over her like a tidal wave.

She inhaled sharply, her pupils dilating as fragments of the night before flooded back. The dark room. The cruel voices. The laughter. The cold. A disgusting game. Their mocks.

"You were late."Her eyes darted up to Donovan, her breath uneven. Donovan guided her to sit on the bed.

"I will accept any punishment you choose for me being a scumbag who failed to keep my promises." Donovan continued to hold her hand.

Her eyes traced along his arms. Why was it his arms—his presence—his touch? Unlike others, his touch didn't cause her to flinch. It didn't make her skin crawl or burn. Instead, it enveloped her in a sense of security.

"Yes, you should be punished!" said Liora in annoyance. "They said they were your friends and made me...Your friends are bad—"

Before Liora could express her anger more, the door suddenly swung open, breaking the moment. The doctor entered, prescription in hand. "Good you are awake," he said, offering a polite smile to Liora as he entered the room.

But Liora flinched, instinctively pressing her face against Donovan's chest.

As if seeking protection.

Donovan barely blinked at her reaction. He simply wrapped an arm around her shoulder, his other hand coming up to rest gently against her neck.

The doctor then cleared his throat. "Would you prefer a female doctor?" He asked empathically.

Liora nodded quickly, her face still hidden in Donovan's shirt. And the doctor gave an understanding nod. "Alright. A female doctor it will be."

The doctor left, and Donovan glanced down at Liora, his voice barely above a murmur.

"You okay?"

She nodded but didn't move away.

He sighed softly, bringing his hand to the back of her head and brushing her hair in slow strokes.

"Liora," he said, her name like it meant everything. Like it was something he had been waiting to say for years.

She looked up, her hazel doe eyes wide, her lips slightly parted.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, quietly, almost painfully—

"They are not my friends. And I am sorry for the tardiness and carelessness you had to go through. I am not even sure how I should ask you to forgive me... Just punish me so that I can feel less guilty."

She took a small breath and instinctively curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt as if it were an anchor to her fear.

The tension stretched between them, and a thread pulled tight—too tight.

Donovan finally pulled back, clearing his throat, but his hand still lingered at the back of her head.

"You should rest," he said, softer now.

Liora hesitated, then nodded.

As she settled back against the pillows, Donovan ran a hand through his dark hair. He had spent years pretending he didn't care. But he always cared for her.

He remembered watching her during her first Kali lesson—the determination in her eyes and the strength she gained with every class.

From a distance, he kept track of her life, making sure she was safe: Officer Park picking her up for school, her laughter with Daran over lunch, and those late afternoons filled with practice. Now, as he sat there, he realized that caring was never just a pretence. It was a truth he could no longer hide.

'Do you feel the way I feel, Liora?' Donovan let this very crucial question hang in his mind.