Zephyr didn't reply to her question. Instead, he turned on his heel and left the room, his footsteps echoing down the sterile hallway. Moments later, he returned with the doctor, who looked at Roseanne with a mix of disbelief and exasperation.
"I've never seen anyone as reckless as you," the doctor said, shaking his head. "You turned the temperature down to freezing, threw off your blanket, and let yourself get this sick. What did you gain from this, huh?"
Roseanne tilted her head slightly, her lips curled into a faint smile—a smirk, really.Her voice,was steady and carried a hint of satisfaction. "I got what I wanted," she said softly, her fever-bright eyes unwavering as they locked with the doctor's.
The doctor sighed, clearly unimpressed. "You'll need to stay here for two more days. After that, you can go home." He paused, noticing her expression shift into a pout. "Just two days?" she murmured, almost disappointed.
Ignoring her, the doctor turned to Zephyr, who stood nearby with his arms crossed, his posture tense. "You need to keep an eye on her. Don't let her pull something like this again, or she won't survive next time." His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.
As the doctor left, Zephyr moved closer, his arms still crossed as he stood at the edge of the bed turned to Roseanne, his expression unreadable. "Did you hear that, lady? You might die. So don't do anything like this ever again," he said, his voice low but sharp.
Roseanne's gaze locked onto his, her eyes intense and unwavering. A sly, almost seductive smile played on her lips. "Well," she said, her voice soft but deliberate, "if this is what it takes, then let it be."
For a moment, Zephyr felt the air shift around him.Zephyr froze, her words hanging in the air like a challenge. For a moment, he felt something stir within him—an unfamiliar pull, a tension he couldn't quite place. He gulped, his throat dry, and quickly looked away.
Without another word, he left the room and returned with food. Roseanne, ever persistent, insisted he feed her, but he refused, brushing off her request. Instead, he stepped outside to make a few phone calls, needing the distance to clear his head.
The cool air of the hospital corridor did little to clear his mind. He leaned against the wall, running a hand through his dark hair as he tried to steady his thoughts.
When he returned, the room was quiet. Roseanne had fallen asleep, her breathing steady, her face peaceful. Zephyr sat on the sofa, his gaze drifting to her. She looked so harmless, so soft and serene in her sleep. But awake? Awake, she had the power to melt even a mountain—or, as he realized with a pang, his own heart.
Cut to the day of her release.
The next two days passed in a blur, tension lingering in the unspoken moments between them.When the day finally came for Roseanne to be discharged, Zephyr was there, punctual and silent, as he helped her out of the hospital.
Zephyr pulled up to her house, the car ride silent but charged with unspoken tension. As she stepped out, Roseanne turned back to him,putting her hand on his thighs, leaning in just a little too close. Her voice dropped, her words laced with suggestion. "You know," she said, her lips curling into a mischievous smile, "you could always come inside."
Zephyr's breath hitched, and he gulped again, his composure slipping for just a moment. But then, with a steady hand, he placed a finger on her forehead and gently pushed her back. "Go home," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Roseanne pouted but obeyed, her steps slow and deliberate as she disappeared into the house. Zephyr exhaled deeply, loosening his tie as he leaned back against the car. He grabbed a bottle of water, taking a long sip before murmuring to himself, "She's dangerous."