Adrian stepped out of the car, the cold night air biting at his skin. His sharp eyes darted toward the passenger seat, where Elena sat unconscious, her head resting against the window. A small crease formed between his brows as he walked around the car, pulling open her door.
Her murmurs had quieted now, but earlier in the drive, she had mumbled words that made his grip tighten on the steering wheel.
“Dad… why?”
“Don’t… hate me.”
Adrian couldn’t figure out why those words unsettled him. Shaking the thoughts away, he bent down and carefully slid an arm under her legs, another around her back. Her small frame felt weightless as he lifted her, her head lolling slightly against his chest.
The gate to his bungalow creaked open as he carried her inside, his footsteps echoing on the polished stone pathway. The automatic lights flickered on, illuminating the sleek, minimalist design of the house and unconscious and disheveled girl in his arms.
Once inside, Adrian nudged the door shut with his foot and walked toward the living room. The warmth of the space seeped into his skin, but the chill from her damp clothes made him quicken his pace. He gently placed her on the couch, brushing strands of wet hair from her face.
His gaze lingered for a moment longer than he intended. She looked fragile, like a porcelain doll on the verge of breaking.
He straightened abruptly, muttering to himself, “Enough, Adrian. This is just responsibility.”
Her stomach growled faintly, snapping him out of his thoughts. Adrian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. She was clearly exhausted and unwell. He needed to act quickly.
Walking back toward the couch, he bent down and scooped her up again, carrying her toward the guest room.
Adrian pushed open the door to the guest room with his shoulder, carefully navigating inside. He placed her down on the edge of the bed, his movements precise and deliberate, as though afraid she might shatter.
Her head lolled slightly, and her lips parted as if she were trying to speak.
“P-Professor…” she murmured weakly, barely audible.
“Yes, Miss Harper,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “You’ll rest here tonight.”
He took a step back, adjusting the blankets around her. His tone returned to its usual sternness, though it was laced with an edge of concern. “This is the guest room. The bathroom is on the right. Take a shower. I’ll be in the hall if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to let me know.”
Elena opened her eyes halfway, nodding weakly. Her lips quivered as if she wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come.
Adrian hesitated for a moment before turning on his heel and leaving, closing the door softly behind him.
Alone in the guest room, Elena sat on the bed, her hands clutching the edge of the blanket tightly. Her chest tightened, and tears pricked her eyes again. The events of the day had drained her completely, and she couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of shame and helplessness.
Slowly, she stood and made her way to the bathroom. Once inside, she turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the small space. The sound of running water was soothing, but when she caught her reflection in the mirror, her breath hitched.
Her face was pale and streaked with dirt, her hair a knotted mess. The damp blouse clinging to her only made her feel worse. She looked… ugly.
Elena bit her lip, trying to hold back the sobs rising in her chest. Her shoulders shook as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Why does everything have to be so hard?” she whispered to herself.
For a moment, she just stood there, letting the pain flow out in waves. Then, gathering her resolve, she stepped under the warm spray of the shower. The water washed away the dirt, the cold, and some of the weight pressing on her heart. She scrubbed at her skin until it turned pink, as if trying to cleanse herself of the day’s humiliation.
After rinsing her blouse and skirt, she wrung them out and hung them on a rack to dry. But as she turned back, her heart sank. She had no clothes to wear.
Her eyes darted around the bathroom in panic until they landed on a bathrobe hanging neatly on a hook. It was large clearly made for someone much taller and broader than her but it was her only option.
Elena slipped it on, tying the belt tightly around her waist. The robe swallowed her petite frame, the sleeves hanging far past her hands. She pulled the collar higher, trying to cover herself as much as possible.
Her cheeks flushed as she glanced in the mirror again. She looked cleaner, but the oversized robe only emphasized how small and vulnerable she felt. Taking a deep breath, she opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the guest room.
The hallway was silent as she made her way back to the living room. The robe swished softly with each step, her wet hair clinging to her shoulders. When she reached the couch, she curled up in a corner, pulling the robe tighter around her.
Her stomach growled again, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, though no one was there to hear it. She tucked her knees to her chest, leaning her head against the back of the couch.
What am I supposed to do now? she thought, her mind racing with worry. She felt like an intruder in this glamorous home, out of place and exposed.
Elena shivered slightly, tucking her hands under the robe. The fabric smelled faintly of detergent and something else something warm and comforting. She closed her eyes, trying to quiet the storm of emotions swirling inside her.