“Always acting like you don’t need anyone,” he added over his shoulder, half-teasing, half-scolding. “Yet the moment you get hurt, you fall apart. What would you do if I wasn’t around?”
I didn’t answer. My eyes stayed fixed on the raw, reddened skin circling my wrist. Seven years. Seven years of being sheltered, soothed, protected by him. Wrapped in his attention like it was something permanent. What would I have done without Rocco?
The truth hit harder than the pain: I didn’t want to find out anymore. I didn’t want his care, his concern, or this hollow imitation of intimacy. Not now. Not ever again.
That night refused to release me into sleep. Whether it was the burning in my wrist or the quiet collapse happening in my chest, rest wouldn’t come. I shifted endlessly beneath the covers, sweat clinging to my skin, begging for unconsciousness. It took hours before exhaustion finally dragged me under.
At dawn, rough hands shook me awake.
I groaned and tried to swat him away, but Rocco only laughed softly and leaned down, brushing a quick kiss across my lips.
The lingering fog vanished instantly. Anger flared so sharply I almost shoved him away—almost slapped him—but I stopped myself at the last second.
“Good morning,” he said lightly. “Did my sleepy little star finally wake up?”
I turned my head aside and wiped my mouth with clear irritation.
“It’s the weekend,” I muttered as I pushed myself upright. “Would it kill you to let me sleep?”
His teasing expression dissolved into concern. “You were burning up last night. You didn’t even notice. Get dressed—we’re going to see a doctor.”
I studied his face. The worry was real, etched deep between his brows. But I couldn’t tell anymore if it was meant for me or simply the role he was used to playing.
I didn’t argue. I followed him anyway.
In the clinic corridor, fate intervened.
We nearly ran straight into Antonella.
She was favoring one foot, moving carefully, her expression pinched with discomfort. The moment Rocco saw her, his entire demeanor shifted.
The man who had been hovering over me moments earlier didn’t spare me a glance as he hurried to her side, one arm instantly supporting her weight.
“What happened?” he asked, urgency threading his voice.
Antonella’s eyes flicked past him—to me—and she offered a faint, almost apologetic smile. “Just twisted my ankle. What a coincidence. You’re here too?”