Chapter 03 - Treating The Wound

The loud sound of the door closing echoed in the air as Isabella walked further into her apartment, painstakingly dragging the mysterious man.

He drifted in and out of consciousness, unaware of where he was. Their footsteps and his heavy breathing filled the silence between them.

She managed to get him to the living room. She tried to place him on the couch as gently as possible. And with great difficulties, she succeeded in doing that.

She was breathing heavily in the darkness as she moved away from him and went to find the light switch.

She found the switch and clicked it on, making the room flood with light. She went back to inspect the man, and her heart raced with fear, and panic struck her when she saw that his eyes were shut.

"OMG, did he die for sure this time?" Isabella gasped under her breath.

"No, I didn't," he uttered half-consciously, making her almost jump.

Isabella placed her hand on her chest and breathed a sigh of relief for the ample time in those few hours. Even though she didn't know him, she didn't want him to die.

Strangely, she was genuinely worried about this mysterious man. Moreover, she couldn't have him die in her place. She just wanted to save him, not want to spend her life in jail because of him.

"Thank God, he is alive," she muttered.

"Where are we?" he breathed weakly while looking around, his guards still up.

Isabella got pulled back from her thought by his words, and she looked at him before whispering,

"In my apartment."

As Isabella finally looked at him, she noticed how he was drifting in and out of consciousness and was taking shallow breaths.

The gravity of the situation struck her mind and made her realize that she needed to move first or else things would worsen. She hurriedly sat in front of him and said carefully,

"Let me check your wound."

He looked at her in alertness for a few beats without saying anything, observing her. Through the observation, when he realized that she really didn't want to hurt him and was purely worried about him, he nodded to her to go ahead.

Isabella swallowed hard and carefully unbuttoned his shirt with her trembling hands. When she finally opened his shirt, a horrific gasp escaped her mouth as she came face to face with his wound.

"Oh dear," she breathed weakly.

There was a huge stab wound on his abdomen. He got stabbed. Of course, he did. Or else he wouldn't have bled that much in the alley.

Isabella cursed herself for her stupidity. She should have known by the amount of bleeding that it was not a simple wound.

Isabella's heart started to beat wildly as her mind was trying to find a solution. But she wasn't finding any.

She brought him to her house to treat his wound, but how was she going to do it? She did have knowledge of treating wounds. But she had never treated such a big wound.

What was she supposed to do now? Should she treat his wound with the knowledge she had? What if she made a mistake? What if she made the wound worse? What if he dies?

The panic started to settle inside Isabella as she couldn't decide what to do.

"What happened?" he breathed heavily, startling Isabella.

"You need a doctor. You need to go to—"

"No," he protested, suddenly alert.

"No hospitals. I can't go there," he uttered.

Isabella closed her eyes, sighed in utter defeat, and took in a deep breath to calm her mind. When she finally calmed down, her panicking heart relaxed.

As she composed herself, she started to think about what she should do. This stubborn man left her with no other choice than to treat his wound with the knowledge she had.

But Isabella was double-thinking about it. She was scared about it, but since he didn't want to go to the hospital, the only option was that. Or else he would die.

"I can do it. You can do it. We can do it," Isabella chanted in her mind like a mantra, trying to encourage herself.

Sounds of groaning rang in Isabella's ears, making her open her eyes. She found the man trying to get up but kept failing. He was about to try again, but Isabella stopped him by lying him back on the couch.

"What are you doing? Your wound will start bleeding again," she muttered worriedly.

"I'm not going to the hospital," he said firmly, making her sigh.

"I understand. I'm not taking you to the hospital. I will treat your wound. Stay here. I will bring the first aid kit, okay? Please," she whispered.

Her voice was firm but also softened at the end of the words, making him frown but also nod. Isabella nodded back before rushing off to get the first aid box. When she came back, she placed it on the ground near the couch and knelt by him.

She bent down toward the wound to inspect it before starting her work. He bit back a painful groan as she touched the wound.

Isabella breathed in relief when she found the wound was a shallow flesh wound. She completely relaxed as she was now confident in treating the wound.

Without wasting any moment, she rushed to the kitchen and filled a basin with water. She went to the bathroom and came back with soap and a towel and then took them to him.

She put the towel in the water and soaped it and then carefully started wiping around the wound with it while trying her best not to hurt him.

He stared at her as she was mending his wound. He was shocked at how worried she was about him, worried about a complete stranger she met in the dangerous alley. For the first time in his life, he saw someone genuinely worry for him other than his family.

He was shocked at how she wasn't wary of him, how she wasn't scared of him. The guards he kept up around her disappeared. And something stirred in his heart. A feeling he didn't know what it was.

He wondered how she had brought a stranger into her home. How could she do that? It was really a risky move. He wondered if she was like this to everyone.

Did she bring any random wounded man she met into her house? Did she worry about any random strangers? Maybe she was like this to everyone.

Oddly, those thoughts left a bitter taste in his mouth. He wanted to be the only one. And if there were others, he wanted to end them all.

In a few seconds, the realization that he was jealous hit him, making him shocked. Why would he feel like this towards the woman he met only a few hours ago?

Even though she was not a dangerous person and meant no harm to him, he barely knew her. Maybe he misjudged his feelings. But deep down he knew that he didn't.

"I don't have alcohol in my house. So, we have to work with it. It will hurt. Please endure it." Isabella's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

Isabella took the saltshaker, opened the top, and poured it into her palm. She then sprinkled the handful onto his wound, and he grunted in pain. She stopped and looked at him, her eyes wide.

"Are you okay?" she asked shakily.

"I am. You can continue," he said between gritted teeth; his face was scrunched up in pain.

"I will be careful," she said softly before pouring salt onto the rest of the cut.

As he was watching her, the thought that she might have done that to others and talked this softly to them kept bothering him. In the end, he couldn't stop himself and asked, his voice laced with annoyance,

"Do you always do it?"

Isabella threw him a confused gaze before continuing with her work and asking,

"Do what?"

"Do you always bring strangers into your home like this without any care of whether they are dangerous or not? Do you always care about anyone who was injured? This is a very bad habit."

His stern and accusing tone made her stop, and she looked at him before saying irritatedly,

"I can see what you are thinking, Mr. Stop that. I'm not that kind of girl. Moreover, this is the first time I brought a stranger into my house. If I wanted, I could have left you there. But I didn't. Be grateful that I didn't leave you there to die even though you were rude."

A tiny smile formed on his lips as the answer from Isabella satisfied him more than it should have. At this point, he was really confused about his feelings. What did he feel toward her?

"Thank you," he uttered, making her shocked.

His sudden gratefulness surprised Isabella but also satisfied her. A soft smile appeared on her lips, and she hummed before starting to work on his wound again.

When she was done, he was breathing heavily and sweat beaded his brows. She dipped her hand into her first aid kit. She got the bandages, folded them, and placed them carefully over the wound.

She got the adhesive bandages and used them to secure the ones on the wound in place. She took a tablet of painkillers and a glass of water.

"It's a painkiller. Take it." Isabella said, giving it to him.

He accepted the tablets and popped them into his mouth.

"Take rest. I will put them in their places," Isabella muttered, making him nod.

He watched as Isabella took the things she brought to treat his wound and placed them in their rightful place one by one. While watching her, he slowly and unknowingly fell asleep.

When she was done placing everything in their place, she came back to find him asleep on the couch. Even though she knew that he was sleeping, she still took her two fingers under his nose to check his breath. She sighed in relief as she confirmed that he was breathing normally.

Isabella went to her room, took a spare blanket from her wardrobe, and went back to him. She made him lie on the couch comfortably, trying her best not to wake him up, and gently wrapped the blanket over him.

After she was done, she released an exhausting breath and flopped herself on the floor. She didn't have the energy to get to her room. All the events from earlier had drained all of her energy. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically. But she was happy that she was able to save someone.

Isabella's eyes slowly trailed toward him, who was sleeping peacefully. She couldn't help but admit that he was undoubtedly an attractive man. He was a man from every woman's dream.

Also, when she was treating him, she couldn't help but admire his abs. He has a very large and well-built body. It felt good to touch his abs. Also, he smells too good.

When Isabella realized what she was thinking, she quickly shook her head to get rid of her indecent thoughts. What was she even thinking about an injured man? She shouldn't think about him like that.

She was glad that he was not a dangerous man. She could guess from his clothes that he was from a wealthy family. Isabella wondered what happened to him to be in that state and for him to reject going to the hospital that strongly.

As she was thinking about all this, the activities of today were making her nod off. She laid her head on the couch and whispered before dozing off,

"What happened to you?"