My hands trembled slightly as I helped Zaara out of her jumpsuit. She was weak, barely able to lift her arms, and i knew she needed help, but that didn't stop my pulse from racing. I wasn't supposed to feel this way. Not now. Not while she was sick and vulnerable. But her skin was so soft and warm from the fever, her body was so delicate.
I unzipped her jumpsuit slowly, keeping my eyes anywhere but on her skin. God, it was hard. I'd be lying if I said I didn't notice her body…..of course I did. Her curves,damnnnnnnn…..she was beautiful. So much more than I expected. But this wasn't about desire. It was about trust. About taking care of her when she couldn't take care of herself.
I told myself again and again, focus. This isn't about you. She needs you. Be there for her.
I moved carefully, steadying her with one arm as I turned on the small shower head fixed to the side of the wall.
But as the water ran over her in the small, rusted stall, i gently began to rinse the vomit from her hair. Her head leaned against my chest, her eyes were closed, her breath was slow. Her scent was still there….she still smelled like roses… and a little bit of vomit. I stroked the back of her head, my fingers carefully through untangling her soft dark hair as i washed it. Even drenched, her hair was soft… so soft. Like silk running through my hands.
"You've got the softest hair I've ever touched," I murmured, mostly to myself.
She looked almost ethereal under the dim light. But then she looked up at me and I didn't know who moved first. Her sleepy eyes found mine, and before I could stop it, my lips brushed hers.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, swallowing hard.
Every instinct in me screamed for restraint. I wasn't a monster. I wasn't some guy who would take advantage of a girl just because she trusted me. And God, Zaara trusted me.
Still, it was hard.
So hard.
Her body pressed lightly against mine as i supported her, i had to grit my teeth and breathe through my nose to keep it together. She's safe, that's all that matters, I reminded himself, even as my heart thudded painfully in my chest.
I stole a glance just one and my breath caught. Her curves, the way her collarbone dipped into her shoulders, the smoothness of her skin glowing beneath the warm water… She was really beautiful. So heartbreakingly beautiful it hurt to look at her.
And yet, i didn't let my hands linger. Every touch was respectful, careful. Not because i didn't want to touch her more, but because she deserved better. She deserved patience, protection, dignity.
After the shower, i wrapped the towel around her gently, like she was made of glass. She was barely awake, so I dried her hair with one of the scratchy old towels. I smiled softly while brushing her damp strands behind her ear. Then, with trembling hands, i helped her into her other clean grey jumpsuit, careful not to look where i didn't need to.
After dressing her gently in the fresh jumpsuit, i carried Zaara back to the room. Her body was light in my arms, something about seeing her like this, fragile and sick, pulled at every protective instinct i had. She was so quiet now, her face pale against my shoulder, lashes damp from tears or maybe the water.
I laid her down on her bed as carefully as i could, brushing the strands of hair away from her face. Her skin was still warm, feverish, but her breathing was steadier. A small sigh left her lips as she curled slightly into the blanket i tucked around her.
I sat down beside her, leaning against the wall. I was soaked too, but i didn't care. Not one bit. My eyes never left her. She looked peaceful now, like the storm inside her had calmed for just a moment. And that was enough. For tonight, that was everything.
She stirred a little, her fingers reaching blindly until they brushed my arm. I caught her hand without hesitation and squeezed it lightly.
"You're still here," she murmured, barely awake.
"Yeah," i whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."
A small smile curved on her lips, weak but real. "Thank you Vincent," she whispered.
For a while, the silence stretched between us. Not awkward. Not uncomfortable. Just calm.
I watched her sleep, one hand still in mine, i'd never felt anything quite like this before. Not attraction, not even desire, this was really something else. A quiet ache. A need to protect someone so deeply it became a part of you.
She shifted again, and instinctively, I laid beside her, not touching, just close. Close enough so she wouldn't feel alone. Close enough so if she woke up again, she'd know someone was there.
And as the dim lights hummed softly above us and the others slept, I closed my eyes, still holding her hand. I keep seeing her in the back of my mind…. Did I go too far? Did I cross a line I can't come back from?
I sighed and whispered, "I'll get you out of here, Zaara. No matter what it takes."