Sienna woke up early today.
The pale light of dawn had barely spread across the horizon, but she had been awake for hours, tossing, turning, and staring at the ceiling while her mind raced through different tracks. For the past few days she had not been psychologically fine. She had managed to bring her emotion back to normal, but a good observer would be able to tell the truth beneath the normal.
She was not fine.
She was trying so hard to be indifferent, and she was so mad that it wasn't working at all.
Today she would see him again. Today was the day they would begin the second stage of his treatment. And all through the night, sleep had escaped her like a bird evading a hunter's grasp. Her mind had been everywhere, wondering especially how to face him, and because of that, she couldn't sleep.
She eventually decided to get ready.
She walked out of bed, walked to the bathroom, picked up her toothbrush, and faced the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, pale, dark circles under her eyes and hair a tangled mess.
She paused.
She frowned as she looked at herself, and the longer she stared, the more pissed she became.
"You are so stupid, Sienna," she scolded her reflection. "When did you become like this? Girl, get a grip on yourself. You are Doctor Rivers, for God's sake."
The words echoed in the bathroom, extremely necessary. She had let herself get carried away. This wasn't her at all. She didn't pine over men; nothing about them had ever bothered her. She didn't even lose sleep over patients with difficult cases, yet she was doing it for someone she couldn't even claim to have anything for. She was a professional. A healer who had built her life on discipline and focus.
She took a deep breath, as if inhaling her lost soul back into her body.
Then she smiled and began freshening up for the morning.
---
Ava was packing breakfast into Sienna's lunchbox when she walked out of her room, dressed in comfortable but professional attire.
"Good morning, Ava."
Ava's eyebrow lifted slightly. Her mistress's mood had improved, though not to the usual brightness she knew, but at least a little better than the last few days.
"Good morning, Doctor," Ava replied.
"You don't have to follow me today." Sienna picked up her bag, checking its contents. "I have a private meeting with a patient."
Ava paused mid-motion, her brow furrowing deeply. The memory of the last time Sienna had gone out without her was still fresh in her mind.
Sienna noticed her expression immediately. "I'll be fine. This patient is someone I know. Very trusted."
Ava's brow did not ease. But it was clear Sienna would not allow her to come, and, after a long moment of silence, Ava sighed.
"I will call your phone to check on you every once in a while." She said. "If you do not pick up, or if you go offline, I will involve the police."
Sienna blinked. "Why the police?"
Ava said nothing. Her expression answered clearly, 'Because I do not trust you going out alone.'
Sienna shook her head; she walked to pick up her lunchbox. "Have a nice day."
She walked out before Ava could say anything else.
She did not take her car; it would be too loud in the area where the medical facility was hidden. Instead, she hailed a taxi and gave the driver directions to the daycare.
The ride was smooth and uneventful. When she arrived, the old woman with facial paralysis welcomed her just like the last time, and Sienna answered her with a smile.
Sienna headed straight for the lab to prepare for the treatment, her heart beating with a rhythm she refused to acknowledge.
---
An hour later, she heard the door slide open.
She was on her phone, scrolling through another patient's file, and the sound of the door made her freeze, her hand tightening around the phone unconsciously.
"Good morning, Doctor Rivers." His voice was cool, melodic, and familiar in a way that made her chest ache. "Long time no see."
Sienna did not turn around immediately. She smoothed her expression into something professional and took a slow breath before responding.
"Welcome, Prince. Please take a seat on the bed."
She kept her back to him, busying herself with the instruments on the table, arranging and rearranging things that did not need arranging.
"Take off your shirt."
Still, she did not face him. She could feel his gaze on her, warm, but she refused to meet it. He noticed immediately. She was avoiding him, purposely acting distant.
He did not understand why, but he said nothing. He simply did as she instructed.
"Did you have any flare-ups this past week?" She asked.
"No. The cloth you gave me kept me in check."
She hummed in acknowledgment.
A few minutes passed. She finished her unnecessary rearranging and finally turned to face him.
She paused.
Even when she had prepared herself for this moment, she couldn't help it.
He was shirtless.
His beautifully sculpted body was on full display; his abs were well-built and defined, each ridge catching the light of the facility like something carved by an overly talented artist with no restraint.
She wanted to stand there and savor the sight. She wanted to trace every line with her fingers…
She snapped out of it.
She walked toward him, her heels clicking against the floor, and took his hand without meeting his eyes. Her fingers found his wrist, pressed against the pulse point, searching for a vein. His heartbeat was steady and annoyingly calm.
When she found the perfect vein, she picked up a syringe from the nearby table and injected him smoothly. All of this she did without looking at his face.
He wanted to ask questions. He could feel the distance between them like a cold wall, but he chose to remain silent.
"You will have a flare-up soon," Sienna informed, stepping back.
"Understood."
With that, Sienna reached for the hem of her jacket and pulled it off.
She folded it carefully, placing it on the table beside her, and then she continued. Her shirt followed. Her skirt. She did not look at him as she undressed, but she could feel his gaze fixed on her, tracing every edge.
Until she stood in her underwear.
She did not continue, and it did not look like she intended to.
A flash of disappointment crossed his eyes, quick as lightning. She was wearing gym tights and a breast tube. He would not, by any generous definition, consider that "underwear."
"I remember you said skin-to-skin contact, Doctor Rivers," he said, his voice calm.
"I changed that." She still would not meet his eyes. "This will work, too."
The voice she said that with was colder.
He did not like this atmosphere. He had imagined many things about today: the warmth of her hands on his skin, the sound of her voice guiding him through the darkness. He had imagined heat and connection.
Not this cold distance.
He remained silent.
For now, at least.