Chapter 11

Heather’s POV

The first thing someone did when they realized they made it to the next day was get out of bed. Right? 

Unfortunately, that was the one thing I could not do—without someone assisting me, of course—so I settled for staring at the sunlight spilling through the curtains instead. 

Wishing I could just get up and stare out the window. 

From the looks of it, we were on a higher floor, so the view was probably good. 

Maybe one day I’d get to see it. 

That is, if my legs eventually start working again. 

I let myself drift away for a few blissful seconds; I let myself forget everything. Then, of course, reality came crashing back, like the bitch that it is. 

I let out a quiet sigh, staring blankly at the ceiling before turning my head toward the clock resting on the bedside table. 

It was just after nine, which was much earlier than I would have liked to wake up. 

When you were bedridden like me, you just wished you slept all day so you wouldn’t be able to wake up to a world where your legs didn’t work. 

A soft knock sounded against the door, pulling me out of my thoughts. 

“Come in.” 

The door slowly opened, revealing Martha pushing a small trolley inside. A warm smile immediately spread across her wrinkled face the moment she noticed I was awake. 

“Good morning, Miss Heather.” 

I couldn’t help returning a small smile of my own. “Morning, Martha.” 

She placed the breakfast tray on the bedside table before walking over to the curtains, pulling them open completely, making the room brighten instantly. “I hope you slept well.” 

“Meh.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I think I did.” 

I honestly couldn’t remember, actually. Everything still felt a bit hazy. 

Perhaps it was the medication, and my body was just simply exhausted. 

Martha turned back toward me. “Would you like to freshen up before breakfast?” 

I blinked at her. 

Right. Freshen up. 

People got out of bed to do that. 

“Yeah…” I answered. “I’d like that.” 

“Wonderful.” She beamed at me before disappearing briefly and returning with a wheelchair. 

Yesterday I was feeling too limp to leave the bed, so Martha just wiped me clean. But it looked like I was going to be having an actual bath today. 

And for some reason… seeing the wheelchair had made everything feel far more real than lying in bed ever had. 

“Forgive me in advance if anything feels uncomfortable,” Martha said gently as she locked the wheels into place. “I’m afraid we’ll have to take things slowly.”

“It’s alright,” I told her, even though it wasn’t. But I really did appreciate her trying. 

With surprising strength for someone her age, she helped me sit upright before carefully guiding me into the wheelchair.

The entire process was awkward and embarrassing. Humiliating even. 

I hated how little control I had over my own body. I hated that someone had to lift my legs because I couldn’t, and most importantly, I hated that I couldn’t even pretend I was fine for their sake. 

Once I was settled, Martha wheeled me toward the adjoining bathroom.

The marble floors gleamed beneath the morning light, while the bathtub sat in front of me, already filled, white bubbles floating lazily across the surface.

It actually looked… comforting. 

“If you’ll allow me,” Martha said softly.

Heat immediately crept into my cheeks. “Oh…”

Right.

I couldn’t exactly bathe myself now.

I lowered my eyes almost immediately. “Sorry.”

Martha looked genuinely surprised. “And whatever are you apologizing for, dear?”

I let out a humorless laugh. “For… this.” I gestured vaguely toward myself. “You probably didn’t expect you’d be bathing a grown woman when you signed up for this job.”

“Oh, nonsense.” She smiled kindly. “I’ve looked after children, old men, and stubborn generals.”

A tiny laugh escaped me despite myself.

“I’m sure I can manage one sweet young lady.” Her warmth eased some of the tension sitting on my shoulders.

She helped me into the warm water with incredible patience, making sure I was comfortable before stepping back just enough to give me what little privacy the situation allowed.

“I’m terribly sorry for the discomfort,” she murmured.

I shook my head. “No.” My fingers drifted absentmindedly through the bubbles. “I’m the one making your work harder.” My words sounded louder than they should have in the echoing bathroom, which made me drift into silence. 

I stared at the foam gathering around my fingertips. “I guess this is what my life’s turned into now…” The words slipped out before I could stop them, along with a humorless laugh. “I can’t even take a bath by myself.”

My throat tightened. “Four days ago I had a husband. I had a home. I thought I had a family.” Another bitter laugh escaped me. “I even thought I had a baby waiting for me. I had already pictured what life would be like after they came into my life.”

My throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “Turns out… none of it was real.”

The bathroom became unbearably quiet, and to be honest, I wasn’t even sure why I was saying any of this.

Maybe because Martha reminded me of someone. Someone gentle, and patient, and safe too. 

Someone who was literally my best friend at the time because I didn’t grow up with any sister or brother. 

That someone… was my mother. 

A lump formed in my throat at the thought.

She used to help me wash my hair whenever I got sick as a child. She’d always complain that I used far too much shampoo, and maybe she’d just start washing my hair herself again.

A small smile pulled at my lips even though the memory made my chest ache. I looked down quickly before the tears could fall.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I shouldn’t be dumping my problems on you.”

Martha’s hands paused where she was folding a towel, and for a while she didn’t answer. Then she smiled apologetically.

“I’m… not entirely sure the young masters would approve of me doing anything but making sure you’re comfortable, well-fed, and looked after.” She hesitated. “I’m not sure they’d approve of discussing personal matters with you.”

I stared at her, then looked down at the bubbles floating across the water, poking at one absentmindedly until it burst.

“Well…” I said thoughtfully. “I’m currently paralyzed.”

She blinked at me. “And I can’t exactly wander around making friends.” Another bubble popped beneath my fingertip. 

“Which means I wouldn’t have anyone to talk to my whole time here. So unless your young masters plan on talking to me twenty-four hours a day, and not risking my mental health here…” I glanced back at her. “…I say you indulge in my useless conversations, because clearly you don’t have options.”

For a second, I almost thought my whole speech didn’t move her. Then she let out a laugh. A genuine, warm laugh that filled the bathroom. 

“Oh, my. You certainly have a way with words.”

I shrugged slightly, a smirk tugging at my lips. “I try.” The smirk, however, faded almost as quickly as it appeared. “I really do think they’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

And when they realized that, they’d probably kick me out, so I'd better enjoy this while it lasts. 

Martha’s laughter stopped as soon as she heard my words, and I watched her expression carefully.

There it was again. That look. The one everyone in this mansion seemed to wear whenever I mentioned it.

A sigh escaped me. “Let me guess, you want to tell me that they’re not lying, and I really am Elara Williams,” I said quietly.

Her eyes lifted to meet mine, a brief silence stretching between us. Then she offered me the gentlest smile.

“I think…” She adjusted the towel over her arm. “…you should think whatever brings you peace for now, Miss Heather.”

It wasn’t exactly a denial, but it wasn’t an answer either. 

Rolling my eyes, I leaned back against the tub.

But I couldn’t shake off the fact that somehow, her words unsettled me far more than if she’d simply argued with me.