Fati stood frozen, overwhelmed by the storm of emotions and shocked by his behavior. Why did he hold back? Was he regretting their marriage? Was she simply not the girl he had hoped to wed? Had his family forced him into this union just to end the blood feud? A thousand questions circled her mind, all pointing to the same painful truth: he did not love her.
Her heart couldn't process it. She curled up on the sofa, shivering, holding her bare arms to her chest, until she finally drifted off into a restless sea of nightmares.
On the other side of the door, Jaguar hadn't left. He remained slumped against the wood, his back arched in defeat. His heart simply wouldn't let him walk away. He felt as though by leaving her, he had ripped his own heart from his chest. An hour passed, and all he could see was the flicker in her eyes and the desperate tremor in her hand as she reached out to stop him.
A fierce longing to return consumed him to apologize, to confess the agony of abandonment he felt even while being the one to walk away. Why did my grandfather have to insist on this revenge? he wondered bitterly. If Fati were just a normal bride, without the weight of their family's vendetta, he would be inside right now, holding her in his arms instead of standing in the hallway like a stranger.
Suddenly, the sound of something shattering came from inside. Jaguar froze was she so angry that she was breaking things? She had been like a block of ice while he was with her, had she exploded the moment he left?
He flung the door wide open and rushed into the spacious living area. There, he saw her kneeling on the floor, her hand blindly sweeping across the scattered glass, her eyes almost closed was she asleep? Then, his gaze fell on the blood staining the floor from her hand.
Panic seized him. Was she... was she trying to end her life? The thought terrified him, but he dismissed it the moment he reached her. He scooped her up as if she were a feather, a broken bird in his arms. That's when he realized her body was burning with fever.
- What's wrong with you?
He cried out, shaking her gently.
But she was gone, lost in the depths of unconsciousness. Realizing that he could lose her any moment.
He laid her on the bed, his heart pounding with fear. She was moaning in pain, and he couldn't fathom how her fever had spiked so fast she had been fine just an hour ago. He tried to pull away to fetch cold compresses, but she clutched his hand, mumbling in her delirium.
Her hand trembled violently, and the blood from her wound stained his forearm.
- Fati, listen to me,
He whispered desperately.
- You're bleeding. I need to get something to sanitize and bandage your hand.
But she was miles away, her body tense and unresponsive. With no other choice, he grabbed the bedsheet and pressed it firmly against her wound until the bleeding stopped. Then, he used his free hand to gently pat her, soothing her until her body finally relaxed and her fever began to break.
Relief washed over him. He sank to the floor, leaning his back against the edge of the bed. Her hand was still clamped tightly around his, as if he were her only lifeline. Overcome by exhaustion he hadn't slept a wink since he'd seen those scandalous photos and rushed to her he finally drifted into a deep sleep, still holding her hand.
The next morning, Jaguar awoke to find Fati sitting opposite him, hugging a pillow and smiling softly. Her injured hand was wrapped in white cloth. Her green eyes were bright again, but there was a distance in her gaze. In her hand, she held a small, damp towel.
- Good morning,
She said as his eyes opened.
- Shall we go down for breakfast in the hotel?
He said nothing, so she continued,
- Or shall I clean the blood from your arm? I know I shouldn't touch you, so I didn't clean it when I cleaned every things this morning, but if you allow me, I could...
He was baffled. How could she act as if last night where he had held her through her fever never happened? He stood up, feeling a strange ache in his chest.
- Good morning,
He said, his voice husky.
- Thank you. I'll head to the bathroom to wash up.
- Then take this,
She said, tossing the warm, damp towel toward him from a distance. It was clear she was committed to keeping her distance. Just as he reached the bathroom, her soft voice stopped him:
- Thank you for not leaving last night. And I apologize for causing you worry.
Inside the bathroom, Jaguar looked into the mirror and froze. His cheek was stained with dried blood. He had been standing before her like this, a mess of blood, and he hadn't even noticed. He must have wiped his hand across his face while tending to her. Suddenly, her smile made perfect sense she had been laughing at his disheveled state. He smiled at the thought; her smile was so radiant it brought a warmth to his soul he had never known.
He stepped out to find she had cleaned everything the floor, the sheets, the room. She had changed and was waiting in the lounge. He picked up one of the signed contracts, noticing a small drop of blood staining the paper.
- This is your copy,
He said coldly.
- Keep it.
- Fine,
She replied.
But she didn't move to take it. He frowned.
- Your secretary and bodyguard will be here in an hour. Be careful I don't want them knowing anything about this contract, so hide it.
- I don't need it,
She said, her voice devoid of emotion.
- Keep it yourself. When the three years are up, just tell me when to leave, and I will.
Jaguar's gaze fell upon the bloodstain on the document paper, and he was immediately pulled back to the memory of her body burning with fever the last night. His voice was probing, heavy with suppressed concern:
- What really happened yesterday? You were perfectly fine when I left you.
She looked at him with an expression of pure, innocent confusion and replied softly:
- I was fine, yes. I just wanted some water, but I wasn't paying attention and accidentally dropped the pitcher.
She offered a gentle, apologetic smile.
- I am terribly sorry for the trouble; I woke up feeling terribly thirsty and I felt so hot
Jaguar studied her in silence for a long moment. It was clear she had no inkling that she had been gripped by a fever so high it had robbed her of consciousness. He ached to tell her—to describe how she had been delirious, how her heat had scorched his own skin but he stopped himself. Instead, he retreated into his usual guarded coolness:
- It's fine. Just try to be more careful in the future.
Jaguar continued to watch her, stunned by her composure. Was it truly possible that she remembered nothing of what happened? Or was she choosing to feign ignorance just to avoid facing the truth? Yesterday, she had been a wounded bird, trembling and broken; today, she stood before him with a poise so steady, it was as if nothing had happened at all.