CHAPTER 20: WATER IN THE DARK

Xitllali

I sat on the edge of the large bed in the quiet bedroom, staring at the brass lock on the door.

The house was so quiet that I could hear the soft sound of pine leaves brushing against the window outside.

My body was exhausted. Every part of me ached from the cold rain, the long walk down the mountain, and the fear that had kept my heart racing since yesterday morning.

But my mind refused to rest. I lay down and pulled the thick blanket up to my chin.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Then half an hour.

Every time I closed my eyes, I remembered what happened when Guillermo came in after I got out of the bathroom 

I remember the way he had looked at me when he walked in. The surprise in his eyes, followed by the sudden intensity that made me feel hot and nervous at the same time.

My face grew warm in the dark. I rolled onto my side and held the blanket tightly against my chest.

He was still the man I had once feared, but he had forced himself to step away and apologize. He had sat across from me at dinner and promised it wouldn't happen again. He had even given me a real choice, a passport, money, and complete freedom once Severo was gone.

He gave you a choice, a quiet voice in my head whispered.

A clean passport. Freedom.

Two years ago, I would have taken that offer without thinking. I would have taken the keys and run as far away as possible.

But lying in the warmth of this quiet room, knowing he was outside sleeping on a couch while injured, knowing how much he cared for me, that freedom didn't feel as simple anymore.

He had walked for miles through freezing mud. He had fought a man in the woods. He had lost blood, and now he was sleeping on a narrow couch near the front door just so I could sleep safely behind a locked door.

My throat felt dry. I couldn't stand the silence anymore.

I swung my legs off the bed, walked quietly across the rug, and reached for the brass handle.

The lock opened with a soft click.

I opened the door and stepped barefoot into the dark hallway.

The living room was dim. It was lit by a single warm lamp. 

I walked toward the wooden dining table where the water jug sat. I picked up a clean glass, poured myself some water, and took a slow sip.

As I turned around, I looked toward the couch near the front door.

He was lying on his back with his dark coat spread over his chest like a blanket. His eyes were closed, and his jaw was tight even in sleep. His right hand rested on his stomach while his left arm stayed close to his side to protect his injured shoulder.

Under the dim lamp, sweat covered his forehead. His dark hair was damp around his temples, and his breathing sounded rough and shallow.

A sharp feeling of worry hit my chest.

I placed the glass on the table and walked toward him.

I stopped beside the couch and leaned down. Then I reached out and gently pressed the back of my fingers against his forehead.

His skin was burning. Before I could pull my hand away, his eyes opened and his right hand shot up and caught my wrist.

I gasped.

"Xitllali," he rasped, his voice heavy with sleep. His eyes looked tired and feverish, but his grip was steady.

"Guillermo, it's just me," I whispered. "You have a fever."

He blinked slowly, then relaxed when he recognized me. He didn't let go of my wrist immediately, but his grip softened, and his thumb moved lightly over my pulse before his hand dropped to his side.

"What are you doing out of the room?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"

"I came out for water," I said softly, looking at his sweaty face. "Your skin is burning. The wound and the cold could be causing an infection."

He let out a tired breath and tried to sit up. He winced when the movement pulled at his injured shoulder.

"It's fine," he said. “It'll pass by morning.”

"Sit still," I ordered.

I went back to the table, took the metal bowl from the medical kit, and filled it with cold water. Then, I grabbed a clean cloth and returned to the couch.

I sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of him.

"Lean back," I said gently.

He looked at me for a moment. His eyes were tired and feverish, but he didn't argue. He leaned back against the cushions.

I dipped the cloth into the cold water, squeezed it, and placed it against his forehead.

He let out a quiet breath and closed his eyes.

"That feels good," he whispered.

"You should have told me you weren't feeling well," I said, gently wiping the sweat from his forehead and neck. "You just stayed out here pretending you were fine."

"I’m fine," he said softly, opening his eyes. "As long as you're inside that room with the door locked, I'm fine."

I looked into his eyes. There was no pride in them. Only honesty.

"You're an idiot, Guillermo," I whispered. "You're pushing yourself until you collapse."

He reached out with his uninjured hand and gently touched the fingers holding the cloth.

"I don't care about the fever, Xitllali," he said. "I only care about you “

I stared at him, my heart beating faster. He looked uncomfortable on the narrow couch, his injured shoulder held away from the wooden armrest.

"Get up," I said softly.

He blinked. "What?"

"Get up," I repeated, standing and placing the bowl down. "You're not sleeping on this couch tonight."

"Xitllali, I told you..."

"I don't care what you told me," I interrupted. "The bed in that room is huge, and can fit two people easily. You're injured, you have a fever, and sleeping on this couch will only make your shoulder worse."

He stared at me, clearly surprised.

"Xitllali, I gave you my word. I said that room was yours so you'd feel safe."

"And I'm telling you to get up," I said firmly. "We can share the bed. You stay on your side, I stay on mine. We'll leave space between us. I'm not going to let you sit out here just to prove a point."

He looked at me for a long moment. When he saw that I wasn't changing my mind, he sighed.

"You're stubborn," he murmured.

He slowly moved his legs off the couch. He winced as he stood, his body swaying slightly from the fever. I quickly stepped beside him and placed his right arm over my shoulder to steady him.

He was heavy and solid, his bare body was warm against my side. For a second, I remembered the way he had looked at me in the bathroom, but I pushed the thought away and helped him down the hallway.

We entered the warm bedroom.

I guided him to the right side of the bed. He sat down heavily and leaned back against the headboard. He removed his boots with his uninjured hand and placed them on the floor.

I walked around to the other side and pulled back the blanket.

"Lie down," I whispered.

He slid under the blanket and lay on his back. His broad body took up most of his side, but the bed was wide enough to leave plenty of space between us.

I lay on my side, facing him through the dim light coming through the shutters. Then I pulled the blanket over my shoulders.

The room was quiet.

For two years, I had believed I would never be in the same room with this man again without fear between us. Yet here we were, lying side by side in a hidden valley, separated by nothing more than a strip of space and the respect he was finally showing me.

He turned his head toward me.

"Xitllali?"

"Yeah?" I whispered.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

I swallowed, feeling a small warmth in my chest. The anger I had carried for two years wasn't gone, but the walls I had built around my heart were slowly coming down.

"Go to sleep, Guillermo," I whispered.

He closed his eyes. His breathing slowly became deeper as the exhaustion finally took over.

I stayed awake for a few more minutes, watching him in the dim light, before finally closing my eyes.