Rege did not rush.
He stepped out of the hospital suite with measured composure, the door closing softly behind him, but something beneath that calm exterior had shifted—tightened, sharpened, unsettled. The sterile scent of the hallway did nothing to ground him. If anything, it only heightened the contrast between the world outside that room and the fragile, breathing presence he had just left behind.
Maya.
Even now, the thought of her lying there—pale, weakened, yet somehow still luminous—lingered in his mind with an intensity that refused to fade.
He exhaled slowly, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve.
Food.
That was the task.
Simple. Practical. Necessary.
And yet, the moment he stepped into the elevator, his reflection staring back at him from the polished steel walls, he knew this had nothing to do with food.
It had everything to do with control.
Because for the first time in a very long time—
He was losing it.
—
Inside the private suite, the atmosphere shifted the moment the oxygen mask was gently removed from Maya's face.
The soft hiss of air ceased, leaving behind a quiet that felt almost sacred.
Maya inhaled slowly.
Freely.
Her chest rose and fell, not strained, not desperate—but controlled. Manageable.
She let out a soft sigh, her lips curving faintly as relief settled into her body.
"I missed that," she murmured, her voice light but tired.
Adela smiled immediately, her eyes softening as she moved closer and sat beside her. She reached for Maya's hand—pale, delicate—and held it gently, her thumb brushing slow, comforting circles against her skin.
"I have missed you," Adela said softly.
Maya let out a small breath of laughter, weak but genuine.
"I am here," she replied, her tone teasing despite the exhaustion lining it.
Tatiana stood a few steps away, watching.
Observing.
Her gaze was sharp, as always—but there was something beneath it now. Something quieter. Something she did not often allow herself to show.
"How do you feel, dear?" she asked.
Maya turned her head slightly toward her, her expression softening.
"I am okay," she said. "I feel better."
She smiled.
But it wasn't just relief in her eyes.
There was something else.
Something unspoken.
A question.
Adela noticed it immediately.
She always did.
Maya didn't ask it.
Didn't voice it.
But her eyes shifted slightly—hesitant, uncertain.
And Adela understood.
"We didn't specifically tell him," Adela said gently, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "He just happened to be there when you were brought here."
Maya's breath stilled for a fraction of a second.
Adela continued.
"He's been… very supportive," she added. "Through all of this."
Tatiana's gaze flickered briefly, but she said nothing.
"And he brought the best cardiologist in the world to treat you."
Maya lowered her eyes.
Shy.
Quiet.
Her fingers tightened slightly in Adela's hand.
She didn't know what to feel.
Gratitude?
Confusion?
Something deeper?
Because every time his name was mentioned—
Something in her shifted.
Something unfamiliar.
Something she couldn't quite name.
"Enough about Rege," Tatiana said smoothly, her voice cutting through the moment with precision. "Focus on your recovery."
Her tone was calm, controlled—but intentional.
"And we can very much afford Dr. Jenkins," she added, almost dismissively. "He can be… excessive."
Adela suppressed a smile.
Maya nodded slightly.
But the feeling lingered.
That strange, quiet pull she didn't understand.
—
A gentle knock broke the silence.
All three women turned toward the door.
It opened smoothly.
And Rege walked in.
Not alone.
Three women followed behind him, each carrying large trays filled with an assortment of food—rich, fragrant, beautifully arranged.
The scent filled the room instantly.
Warm.
Comforting.
Alive.
They moved efficiently, placing the trays on the large table in the center of the lounge area before exiting just as quietly as they had entered.
Adela's eyes widened slightly.
"This is…" she began, then stopped, her lips parting in disbelief.
Tatiana, on the other hand, remained composed.
Almost indifferent.
But the faint upward curve at the corner of her lips betrayed her.
Rege didn't speak.
He moved with quiet purpose, stepping toward the table and picking up an empty plate.
One by one, he selected dishes.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
A little of everything.
Until the plate was filled to the point of excess—variety layered upon variety, a feast in itself.
Adela watched, amused.
"This is definitely a feast," she commented lightly.
Rege said nothing.
He simply lifted the plate and walked toward Maya.
Her eyes followed him.
Quiet.
Uncertain.
He placed the tray gently on a serving table, adjusting it with precision before rolling her bed into a seated position.
Maya didn't move.
Didn't need to.
He did everything.
Effortlessly.
As if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Tatiana and Adela exchanged a glance.
Subtle.
Silent.
Observant.
Rege adjusted the table onto Maya's lap, ensuring it was perfectly positioned.
Then he sat beside her.
Close.
Too close.
And yet—
Not close enough.
He placed a white napkin carefully between her and the tray, his movements calm, focused.
Maya stared at him.
Completely still.
Her heart—
It wasn't racing.
But it wasn't calm either.
It was something in between.
Something unfamiliar.
Tatiana and Adela moved to the couch.
Not because they weren't interested.
But because they were.
And they wanted to watch without interfering.
—
Rege picked up the spoon.
Dipped it into the soup.
And brought it to her lips.
"Open, Krasota."
His voice was low.
Deep.
Soft.
It sent a quiet, unexpected shiver through her.
Maya hesitated for the briefest moment.
Then—
She obeyed.
The spoon touched her lips.
Warm.
Gentle.
She swallowed.
And something about it—
Felt different.
He continued.
Slowly.
Patiently.
One spoonful at a time.
He didn't rush her.
Didn't speak.
Just fed her.
As though it was something he had always done.
As though it belonged to him.
Maya had never eaten this much before.
Never.
And yet—
She didn't resist.
Didn't feel overwhelmed.
She felt…
Taken care of.
Seen.
And strangely—
Satisfied.
Not just physically.
But something deeper.
Something quieter.
Rege watched her carefully.
Every movement.
Every reaction.
Memorizing it.
Until finally—
He stopped.
Satisfied.
He reached for a tissue.
Gently wiped her lips.
His touch—
Soft.
Controlled.
But his gaze—
It betrayed him.
For a brief moment.
His jaw tightened.
His nostrils flared slightly.
Because he was too close.
Too aware.
Of everything.
Her lips.
Her breath.
Her scent.
He forced himself to focus.
To remain composed.
"Are you okay?" Maya's voice came softly.
Barely above a whisper.
He paused.
Then looked at her.
"Yes," he said calmly. "Why would you ask that?"
"You seemed tense earlier," she replied quietly, her gaze dropping.
Avoiding him.
And he felt it.
That distance.
Immediate.
Unwelcome.
He reached out.
Placed his finger beneath her chin.
Lifted her face gently.
Forcing her to look at him.
Her breath caught.
His lips curved into a faint smirk.
"I am okay, Krasota."
He leaned closer.
And for a second—
Just one second—
Maya thought he was going to kiss her.
Her eyes closed.
Instinctively.
Her lips parted slightly.
But instead—
He moved to her ear.
Close.
Too close.
His breath brushed against her skin as he inhaled slowly.
Deeply.
Her scent.
Soft.
Warm.
Intoxicating.
Maya's entire body reacted.
A deep blush spread across her skin—starting from her ears, trailing down her neck, blooming across her cheeks.
Her hands tightened against the sheets.
Her breath softened.
Unsteady.
Rege noticed.
Of course he did.
His smirk deepened slightly.
And then—
"Rest, Krasota."
His voice was barely a whisper.
Her lips parted further.
Unconsciously.
He pulled away immediately.
Because staying longer—
Would have been a mistake.
A dangerous one.
He adjusted the bed back into position, removed the tray and table swiftly, avoiding her gaze entirely.
Because if he looked at her again—
He might not stop.
Maya opened her eyes slowly after he moved away.
The absence of his warmth—
It was immediate.
Noticeable.
She swallowed softly.
Confused.
Overwhelmed.
Unsure.
She didn't understand what she was feeling.
Didn't try to.
She simply closed her eyes again.
And let herself drift.
Because she was exhausted.
And because—
For some reason—
She wanted to do exactly what he told her.
Rest.
—
Tatiana and Adela had seen everything.
Every glance.
Every shift.
Every unspoken moment.
But they said nothing.
Because some things—
Were better left untouched.
Rege spoke briefly before leaving.
"I'll be back," he said.
Then handed them a number.
"Call when you're done."
And just like that—
He was gone.
Adela didn't hesitate.
She moved to the table immediately, her eyes lighting up as she began exploring the spread.
Tatiana, however, stood still for a moment.
Then walked toward Maya.
She looked down at her.
Not just at her face—
But at her expression.
Peaceful.
Calm.
Sleeping.
Tatiana's gaze softened.
Just slightly.
Then she turned.
And joined Adela.
They ate.
Quietly.
Comfortably.
Until suddenly—
Adela paused.
Her brows furrowed slightly.
"Rege didn't eat anything."
Tatiana didn't respond immediately.
She simply took another bite.
Then—
A faint, knowing look crossed her face.
Adela shrugged lightly.
And continued eating.
But somewhere—
In the quiet space between thought and realization—
Something had already begun.
Not loudly.
Not visibly.
But undeniably.
And none of them—
Not even Maya—
Understood just how much everything had already changed.