Chapter 5

“Once she wakes up, give her something to eat and drink to restore her strength.”

I heard a door close after that.

For a few seconds, I stayed somewhere between sleep and consciousness, surrounded by faint, unfamiliar noises. My body felt heavy, every muscle sluggish as though even waking up required more strength than I had left.

Then something cold touched my forehead.

A towel.

I slowly opened my eyes.

The room came into focus little by little, though everything still seemed hazy around the edges. Before I could make sense of where I was, a woman who looked to be in her forties appeared in front of me.

She smiled gently as she wiped her hands with another towel before placing it on the table beside my bed.

Table beside my bed?

My gaze immediately darted around the room.

The thought sent a strange uneasiness crawling beneath my skin.

Everything looked expensive. The furniture, the decorations, even the bed I was lying on. None of it was familiar.

“Huwag ka muna gumalaw masyado, ija,” she said softly. “Baka dumugo ang mga sugat mo.”

Her hand gently brushed over my hair, the gesture meant to calm me.

But I barely heard her.

I pushed myself upright.

Pain immediately pulled through my body, forcing a small wince from my lips. I grabbed the blanket and pulled it tightly around myself, wrapping it over my body as though the extra layer of fabric could somehow make me feel safe again.

My hands wouldn't stop trembling.

I looked at the woman in front of me, silently begging her for an answer to the question I couldn't bring myself to ask.

But before I could say anything, she smiled.

“Huwag kang mag-aalala. Ligtas ka na.”

Her voice was soft, almost motherly.

“Bukod doon, ako ang nagpalit ng damit mo. Punit na kasi iyon at puro dugo at putik.”

My breath caught.

She sat down beside me and carefully took my trembling hands in hers.

I stared at our hands for a moment, unable to make myself look at her.

“Nothing happened?”

The words barely came out. My throat felt raw, and my voice shook so badly that I almost hated myself for letting her hear it.

Still, I needed to know.

I needed someone to tell me that there was something left of me that he hadn't taken.

“Wala.”

Her answer came without hesitation.

She gently rubbed her thumb across the back of my hand, slow and repetitive—the kind of small gesture meant to remind someone that they weren't alone.

I closed my eyes.

For the first time since waking up, I let myself breathe.

Not deeply.

Not completely.

Just enough.

She stayed beside me for a little while longer, asking if there was anything I wanted to eat or drink. I shook my head at first, but eventually asked for some water.

Not long after, she left me alone.

The moment the door closed, the silence felt different.

Heavier.

My eyes burned.

Then the tears came.

I pressed the blanket tighter against myself as fragments of what happened returned without warning. The knife. His voice. The pain. The ringing in my ears.

My stomach twisted violently.

I swallowed hard, fighting the sudden urge to vomit.

Had that man been following me for a long time?

The thought made my chest tighten.

What if he had been watching me?

What if this wasn't random?

I pulled the blanket even closer, my fingers gripping the fabric until they hurt.

The room suddenly felt too small.

The walls seemed to creep closer with every breath, leaving less and less space for me to breathe.

I reached for the pillow and pulled it against my chest.

Then I buried my face into it.

The sob that escaped me was followed by another.

And another.

Until I was no longer trying to hold them back.

I cried into the pillow, muffling the sounds that tore from my throat, until the fear and helplessness I'd been carrying since that alley finally had somewhere to go.

Then I heard a click.

Inangat ko ang ulo ko upang tingnan kung sino ang pumasok, at parang biglang nanikip ang dibdib ko nang makita ko siya.

Lucien Ashford.

He didn't say anything. He simply stood by the door, holding a tray in his left hand while watching me. My first instinct was to run, but my body wouldn't move. My fingers tightened around the blanket still clutched against my chest, pulling it higher as though a thin piece of fabric could somehow protect me. My legs remained frozen beneath the sheets, refusing to obey the panic that was already telling me to get as far away from him as possible.

Lucien slowly raised his right hand, showing me that it was empty. He wasn't holding anything. His eyes briefly dropped to the blanket wrapped tightly around me before returning to my face. Then, without saying a word, he took a few slow steps toward the bed.

Every step made my body tense.

He placed the tray on the side table beside the bed, then immediately stepped back, giving me space again. He walked toward the sofa a short distance away and sat down, leaning comfortably against the backrest as if there was nothing strange about staying in the same room with me.

The smell of soup gradually filled the room. Warm, savory, and strangely comforting.

My stomach betrayed me with a low growl.

I immediately pressed a hand against it and looked at him, embarrassed by the sound despite everything that had happened. Lucien was already looking at me, his expression completely unreadable. For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then his eyes shifted toward the newspaper in his hands.

I didn't even know where he got it. He simply unfolded the pages and began reading, resting his back against the sofa. He wasn't looking at me anymore, but he wasn't leaving either.

Somehow, the distance between his sofa and my bed felt wider than the entire house.

I slowly reached for the spoon. My hand trembled slightly as I dipped it into the soup and brought it to my lips. One spoonful. Then another. I ate quietly, keeping my eyes mostly on the bowl. The only sounds in the room were the soft rustling of newspaper pages and the occasional clink of the spoon against the bowl.

But the silence didn't mean I was at peace.

The scene from the alley kept forcing its way back into my head—the man's laugh, his voice, the knife, the pain. I swallowed hard, trying to push the memories somewhere they couldn't reach me, but they kept coming back no matter how tightly I tried to shut them away.

How the hell did I end up here?

My gaze dropped beneath the blanket, and an uncomfortable thought slowly surfaced. I carefully searched my own body for any unfamiliar pain, any sensation that might tell me something had happened beyond what I could remember.

There was nothing.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding.

Nothing happened.

At least, not that.

My virginity was still safe. My body was still mine.

The thought should have brought relief. Instead, my eyes burned as tears gathered behind them. Because even if that part of me had been spared, it didn't erase everything else. Someone had still hurt me. Someone had still taken away my sense of safety and left me terrified of what might happen next.

I blinked repeatedly, refusing to let the tears fall.

Then a soft sound pulled me back to reality.

A tissue had been placed on the tray.

I slowly raised my head, and my breath caught when I realized Lucien was now standing in front of me. I hadn't even noticed him leave the sofa.

He looked down at me, his expression as calm and unreadable as before.

Then his voice broke the silence.

“No need to dwell on it. I dealt with that problem myself.”