Care And Insistence

Chapter Eight – Care and Insistence

The doctor finally stepped out, giving me a nod. “She’s stable now. You can take her home, but she needs rest. Make sure she doesn’t strain herself.”

I looked at Alina. She was sitting up on the hospital bed, still weak, still pale, but trying to compose herself. Her hair was messy, her clothes wrinkled, and her eyes… those eyes were tired, yet alert.

I stepped closer. “Are you okay to walk?” I asked softly.

She hesitated, glancing down at her legs. “I… I think so,” she murmured.

I shook my head. “Don’t think. Lean on me. I won’t let you fall.”

Her lips pressed together. I could see her trying to be independent, trying to act like she didn’t need help. But I saw right through it. She was too weak. I couldn’t leave her alone, not now.

We slowly moved toward the hospital exit. Every step she took, I supported her, my arm around her waist. Her hand clung to my arm, her fingers tight, like she was afraid to let go. I didn’t mind. I wanted her to hold on.

Outside, the air was cool. The sun was low in the sky. I glanced at her. “So… you live alone, right?” I asked.

She looked up at me, a little startled. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I… I take care of myself.”

I stopped walking and looked straight into her eyes. “No,” I said firmly. “You can’t stay alone like this. Not yet. You’re too weak. You need someone to watch over you. Until you are strong again.”

She shook her head, trying to resist. “I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.”

I let out a long breath, frustration rising in me. “No,” I said again. “I won’t let you do that. Not now. You need someone with you. I insist.”

Her eyes softened. She didn’t argue anymore, just gave a small, reluctant nod. I could see the trust in her. Even though she tried to be independent, she was letting me decide for her. That… that trust hit me in a way I didn’t expect.

I took her hand gently. “Come on. Let’s get you to my car. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

She allowed me to guide her down the hospital steps, one careful step at a time. I held her close, just enough to support her, careful not to crowd her. Every small movement reminded me how fragile she was. How much she had gone through today, how weak she truly was.

When we reached the car, I opened the door for her. “Sit,” I said softly. She lowered herself slowly into the seat, her legs trembling.

I knelt slightly beside her. “Hope you’re not planning to meet that man again?” I asked gently.

She shook her head quickly. “No. I live alone,” she said quietly. Her voice was soft, almost fragile, and I felt a protective surge.

I stood up, looking at her carefully. “Good. Then come with me. You’ll stay with me for a while. Until you are fully strong. You can’t be alone.”

She looked away, trying to protest. “I… I’ll be fine,” she whispered.

I shook my head, firm but calm. “No. You’re too weak. You need care. I won’t leave you to struggle. You’re coming with me.”

Her lips pressed together. I could see the hesitation, the pride, the independence she wanted to keep. But finally… she gave in. She nodded slowly, quietly.

I opened the car door wider and held out my hand. “Lean on me,” I said. “I’ll help you.”

She placed her hand in mine. I felt her small, fragile grip. I helped her swing her legs into the car, careful not to hurt her. She sat back, letting out a small sigh.

“Seatbelt,” I said softly, helping her click it in. Her hands were shaking slightly. I brushed her hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. Every motion was slow, careful, like she was made of porcelain.

I stepped back and closed the door. I walked around to the driver’s side and got in. The engine started, but I didn’t move immediately. I glanced at her, seeing her pale face, her weak hands resting on her lap, the small tremor in her shoulders.

“You trust me?” I asked quietly.

She looked at me, her eyes soft. She nodded slightly. I could feel it—the small, fragile trust she was giving me.

I started the car slowly, keeping my eyes on the road, but always aware of her. Every bump in the street, every turn, I made sure she was safe, comfortable, cared for.

“Don’t worry,” I said softly. “I’ll take care of you. You’re not alone anymore. Not until you’re strong again.”

She leaned back slightly, letting herself relax. I could see her shoulders slowly ease. The tension in her body softened. She was letting me take control, letting me care for her.

And I would. I would make sure she was safe. I would protect her. I wouldn’t let her be weak and alone. Not ever.