Hundred and eighty-four

Sandro's condition hadn't improved; if anything, it had worsened. Arabella doubted it was due to the injury, which had already closed up two days since it happened. She had returned only yesterday to the room and found him sprawled on the bathroom floor.

Initially, she thought he had stopped breathing, given his lack of movement, until she checked his pulse. Though she wouldn't admit it, she felt relieved. As much as she detested his behavior towards her, she was relieved he wasn't dead.

"I hate this," Sandro groaned, snapping Arabella from her thoughts. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks, and he opened his eyes slowly.

Frowning, he murmured, "Bella?"

"Yes," Arabella said, placing her palm on his forehead to check his temperature. "How do you feel today?"

"Worse," Sandro mumbled, attempting to sit up. His eyes stayed on hers for a long time, making Arabella conscious of what she was wearing. She had opted for one of Sandro's T-shirts as she hadn't had time to do laundry. Now, she