A Confession Forged in Pain

JULIAN

From my recovery chair, I watched her move around the room with a grace I'd never fully appreciated before. Vanessa West—the woman who'd stormed into my life like a hurricane, upending everything I thought I knew.

She was arranging flowers by the window, letting sunlight paint gold across her auburn hair. It felt surreal to see her here, in my private quarters, performing such a simple act of care.

"You don't have to do that," I said, my voice still rough from disuse.

She turned, those gray-blue eyes meeting mine without the hatred I'd grown accustomed to seeing there. "I know. But sitting around watching you sleep gets boring after a while."

Despite everything, a smile tugged at my lips.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, approaching to check the bandage on my shoulder.

"Like I got mauled by a bear." The injury wasn't life-threatening, but it hurt like hell. "But I'll live."