A soft groan escaped Verena's lips as she slowly blinked her eyes open. The ceiling above her was white, unfamiliar, and far too pristine. She inhaled sharply, already sensing the soreness that clung to her body like lead.
She tried to sit up—only to startle when a hand gently tucked a pillow behind her back.
Her eyes darted up.
Louis.
He stood before her, composed and silent, his sharp features unreadable. For a moment, she thought she caught something flicker across his face—concern, maybe—but she quickly dismissed it. Why would he care?
"Where… am I?" she croaked, her voice still hoarse.
"Auntie, you're in my house," a soft voice piped up from the other side.
She turned her head, finding Little Benny perched beside the bed, looking up at her with round, worried eyes.
"Are you in pain?" he asked in a small voice.
Before she could answer, he reached out and gently patted her bandaged hand, then leaned down to blow a kiss over it. The innocence of the gesture struck something deep inside her.
She finally noticed the thick wrappings on her hand, her foot, and the dull ache pulsing at her temple. Just what kind of hell had she fought her way through back there?
"It doesn't hurt anymore, little bunny," she managed with a faint smile.
But Benny's face dropped slightly. "You were crying in your sleep," he said, his voice cracking. "A lot."
Verena's throat tightened. She remembered the dream—the one where she was back in that cold, grey prison cell, clutching her swollen belly, waiting for a child who never cried, never breathed, never opened his eyes.
That loss had never stopped hurting. But here this child was, looking at her with genuine worry, giving her the gentlest warmth she hadn't known in years.
"Rest well," Louis's voice cut in, calm and cool. "I'll bring you some porridge."
She watched as he turned and left the room without another glance in her direction.
Of course, she thought. Always half there, half gone.
"Why am I here, and not in a hospital?" she asked suddenly, narrowing her eyes at Benny.
He hesitated, glancing quickly toward the door his father had just walked through.
Then, fidgeting with his fingers, he said softly, "We brought you home. You live alone… and Daddy said it's better if we take care of you here."
We.
For just a second… it felt like family.
That single word settled in her chest like a weight.
Her breath caught for a moment, not quite pain, but something close to it—confusion… disbelief… fear?
She pressed her lips into a thin line, unsure how to respond.
Just then, the door opened again. Without a word, he came toward her.
Louis set the tray down on the side table with deliberate care, then pulled a chair close to the bed and sat.
He didn't speak immediately, just picked up the bowl of porridge and stirred it slowly, almost absently, like he was buying time.
Verena watched him in silence, unsure of what was more uncomfortable—the throbbing in her leg or the man now calmly feeding her like this was normal.
"You're not seriously going to spoon-feed me, are you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
He met her gaze. "You've got bandages on both hands."
"…Still," she mumbled, suddenly shy.
Louis lifted a spoonful of porridge toward her, and after a beat of hesitation, she leaned forward and took it.
It was simple and warm—ginger, rice, maybe a little too salty—but it hit her stomach like a comfort she'd been starved for.
"You shouldn't have fought them," he said quietly, not looking at her.
"You shouldn't have let them find me," she shot back, sharper than she intended. She didn't know why she said that.
His jaw tightened.
"I've already taken care of it."
"Taken care of it?" she echoed, scoffing. "Ariana must've been pretty convincing."
Louis's eyes darkened. "You knew it was her?"
"She always liked to play the victim." Verena's voice was quieter now. "It's not hard to guess."
Louis leaned back in the chair, one ankle resting on his knee, studying her.
"You're not surprised."
"I don't have the luxury," Verena muttered. "I stopped being surprised a long time ago."
There was silence again.
Benny had curled up on the other side of the bed and was now sleeping with his cheek pressed against the blanket, tiny breaths warming Verena's hip.
Louis looked at him, then back at her.
"He cried when you passed out," he said, his tone low.
Verena glanced down at Benny's peaceful face.
Her chest tightened again.
Louis stood then, slowly.
He picked up the used spoon, returned it to the tray, and turned to leave. But at the door, he paused, one hand on the frame.
"I don't know what Ariana wants from you," he said without turning around, "but if she tries something again… she won't get the chance to finish it."
Verena watched him disappear down the hallway, the soft click of the door echoing behind him.
She stared at the closed door for a long moment, then down at Benny.
He stirred slightly in his sleep, one hand unconsciously reaching for hers.
Verena exhaled.
Maybe… just maybe… she wasn't entirely alone this time.