39

[ARTEMY]
When Rebecca arrived with the first aid kit, I couldn’t bear the thought of her seeing me in such a broken and painful state, so I chose to ignore her. The last thing I wanted was for her to witness my vulnerability.
As waves of unfamiliar emotions coursed through me, I felt consumed by self-loathing. I had always believed that displaying feelings was a sign of weakness, and yet, in Rebecca’s presence, my defenses crumbled effortlessly.
Whenever she played the piano, it was as if my mother were sitting there before me, alive and vibrant. The pain throbbing in my body served as a painful reminder of how I ended up in this wretched condition.
Herman. Whatever form of demise he had faced, it felt insufficient. He didn’t deserve to die so easily. The haunting image of my mother’s lifeless and bloodied body flashed in my mind, causing an unbearable ache in my heart.
For years, I had buried these emotions deep inside, refusing to let them surface. I had shut myself off from feeling anything at all.
“What am I supposed to do now?” I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible.
My existence had revolved around a single purpose: to annihilate Herman, to dismantle his family and empire. My vengeance had been fixated on him. But now, all that remained was his family. And by the time I was finished, not a trace of them would be left.
Every Cavalieri, every ally, everything tied to him would be eradicated from this world. I desired complete and utter dominion.
With that thought lingering in my mind, I closed my burning eyes. The unrest in my sleep was plagued by visions of a black-haired angel with captivating green eyes, radiating joy and laughter. But she always eluded my grasp, slipping away just as I reached out, leaving me empty and yearning.
At some point, the creaking of a door penetrated my consciousness. As the footsteps drew nearer, warmth filled my body instantly. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know that Rebecca stood before me. Pretending to be asleep, I waited, hoping she would keep her distance. Her presence, her sweet scent, her enchanting voice-it all stirred conflicting emotions within me.
She approached so closely that the aroma of her vanilla-scented shampoo reached my nostrils. Then, she knelt down in front of me, and resisting the urge to open my eyes, I pretended to remain asleep. I longed to see her, despite my earlier desire to keep her far away.
My heart yearned for her proximity, while my mind urged me to push her away. Caught in this inner conflict, I chose to keep my eyes closed, even as her delicate hands gently grasped mine. I fought the instinct to pull away hastily, for she was so close, touching me.
I fought to maintain control, silently urging myself to stay composed as Rebecca tenderly traced her fingers over my battered knuckles. Suddenly, I felt a damp sensation grazing the back of my hand, provoking a sharp sting that I suppressed by biting down on my lips to conceal any signs of pain.
In an instant, realization struck me like a lightning bolt, and my eyes flew open. I glanced down at Rebecca, discovering her hunched over my hand, meticulously cleansing my wounds with an antiseptic wipe. With deliberate care, she methodically attended to each knuckle before tending to the rest of my hand. Once the bandage was securely in place, she let out a weary sigh and leaned back, putting some distance between us.
I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her; she was simply stunning. The mere thought sent my heart into a frenzied rhythm, and I swallowed hard, trying to regain my composure.
Pull yourself together, Artemy.
Just then, she raised her eyes, widening them in surprise, while her lips parted in shock. “Artemy,” she whispered, barely audible.
A faint flush graced her cheeks, enhancing her beauty even further. Shifting my attention away from her face, I directed my gaze towards my bandaged hand.
“I… I noticed that you hadn’t cleaned your hands,” she stammered. “I thought maybe I could do it for you.”
Little did she know the effect her actions had on me. She tended to my wounds, caring for me despite my harshness towards her.
“It could get infected,” she continued, her words stumbling. “That’s why I cleaned it.”
When was the last time someone had taken care of me? My heart raced with intensity.
“You should clean your other hand,” she suggested, sighing and starting to rise from her position.
Panic surged through me, and before I could rationalize my actions, I swiftly reached out and clasped her wrist, pulling her back towards me until she knelt once again. She stumbled, falling back onto her knees before me.
I needed her closer. I wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. Rebecca tilted her head backward, her eyes fixed on me in astonishment.
I sought a reason to keep her by my side, so I extended my other hand, hoping she would hold on.
As she diligently worked, the absence of words brought solace to me. Yet, there was something even more comforting about Rebecca’s presence, despite my attempts to deny it.
When Rebecca finished her task, she didn’t release my hand right away. Instead, she tenderly brushed her thumb over my bandaged knuckles, her touch gentle and reassuring.
Then, she let go but continued to gaze at me, our eyes locked in an unwavering connection. In that moment, we were both immersed in each other’s presence. And then, she broke the spell. My attention was drawn to her black hair, tightly bound in a neat bun.
She was undeniably beautiful, but I longed to see her with her hair down once again. Without hesitation, I leaned forward and removed the hair band from her tresses.
When I expressed how stunning she looked, those words carried the utmost sincerity I had spoken in a long while.
Her sparkling emerald eyes, her crimson lips, her flushed cheeks, and her long, cascading black hair down her back created an image that was impossible to forget. The way she looked at me sent my heart racing.
She had managed to burrow deep under my skin, and I knew I had to rid myself of her presence as soon as possible.
There was only one way to achieve that.
A single encounter and then I would move on.
Rebecca would be no different from the rest. I had to ensure it.
[REBECCA]
His words sent a surge of emotions through me, flipping my heart and twisting my stomach. When he called me beautiful, I couldn’t help but instinctively lower my head, overwhelmed by his compliment.
After coughing and clearing his throat, he spoke again, expressing gratitude for tending to his wounds. I nodded in acknowledgement and then mustered the courage to look up at him. With a hint of nervousness, I began expressing my own gratitude for his care the previous night. Playing with the hem of my dress anxiously, I confessed that I should have thanked him earlier but didn’t get the opportunity.
Artemy, inquisitive, questioned whether my act of bandaging his hand was driven by pity. I shook my head fervently and whispered a denial, reassuring him that it was not pity. “I just wanted to help,” I confessed sincerely. And it was the truth. It wasn’t pity that motivated me, but rather a genuine desire to alleviate his pain. I empathized with him, feeling his suffering, and my heart urged me to provide him with comfort in any way I could.
Perplexed, I asked why he found it so objectionable that I had tended to his wound. Artemy glared at me, his frustration evident as he released a breath of exasperation. “I wanted to help, Artemy,” I pleaded. “It wasn’t pity. Even if you hadn’t taken care of me that night, I would still have cleaned your wounds.” He stared at me intensely, his eyes clouded with emotion, his jaw clenched.
Tucking my hair behind my ears and smoothing it down, I continued speaking, trying to make him understand. “I can’t claim to fully comprehend what you’re going through,” I admitted. “But I know what it’s like to feel such immense pain that you believe you might die.” I needed him to see that I too carried scars of my own. “So, to some extent, I do understand your pain. Not for the same reasons, but I know the feeling.” My gaze fixated on his bandaged hands. “When I tended to your wounds, it was my way of showing that I understood. I wanted to offer you comfort in return.” My voice faltered as I choked on the last few words.
“I don’t need your comfort, Rebecca,” he growled, his teeth clenched.
His words stung, and my head snapped up in response. Shaking my head, I disagreed firmly, “Everyone needs comforting at times.”
“Why the fuck do you make everything so hard?” Artemy grumbled, rising to his feet. Startled by his sudden movement, I fell back onto my butt, but quickly scrambled to regain my footing. He distanced himself from me, turning towards the wall, his back rigid, refusing to face me.
“I apologize.” Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision, and a tingling sensation crept into my nose. Why was he being so harsh? Why couldn’t he simply understand?
“You must stay within your limits, Rebecca,” he cautioned. His words froze me in place, and fear took hold. He was right. I had indeed overstepped my boundaries. In the heat of the moment, lost in his tender words and gentle gaze, I forgot both him and myself.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, my voice trembling.
“Leave!” Artemy commanded. His words felt like a slap across my face, and I hastily retreated. When my movements weren’t swift enough, he shouted, “Didn’t you hear what I said? Just get the hell out!”
Suppressing a sob, I swiftly turned around and made my way out, but I stumbled into a solid chest on my way. I looked up and met Avim’s enraged expression. His eyes scanned my face before glancing past me.
“What were you doing in there?” he snapped.
“I-” I began.
“Stay away from that room,” he growled, glaring at me. “And stay the hell away from the boss. He doesn’t have time to deal with you. Understand?”
I nodded silently, tears streaming down my cheeks. Avim remained indifferent as he walked past me and entered the piano room, the door closing behind him.
My heart ached at the thought of Artemy suffering alone. He desperately needed comfort, yet he stubbornly refused it, even when it was offered freely.
Why couldn’t he see my anguish? Why couldn’t he recognize that I, too, shared his pain?
He was too blinded by his own haunted past.