Chapter 28-In many ways

Chapter 28: 28-In many ways

"Where am I?"

"You’re on my cruise," Aymara answered him.

Nathaniel’s brows furrowed. A dull pressure began to build behind his eyes, and for a moment he wondered if the fever had returned.

The words made no sense. He remembered being in the hospital, surrounded by white walls, antiseptic smells, and the steady beeping of machines then Aymara took him away. He remembered drifting in and out of sleep, too weak to keep his eyes open for long.

The memory of leaving, of being transported anywhere, and the memory of agreeing to board a cruise ship was fuzzy in his mind.

Beyond the sealed window, the ocean rolled beneath a bruised gray sky. Far on the horizon, a dark line of clouds was gathering, too broad and too still to be an ordinary storm.

"Your... cruise?"

Aymara nodded. She picked up the tray and placed it carefully on the table beside the bed, moving with the calm precision of someone who had already anticipated his questions.

The room around them was too luxurious to be a hospital room, yet the medical equipment beside the bed made it clear that she had not brought him somewhere merely for comfort.

"I brought you here from the hospital."

Nathaniel’s expression darkened. His fingers curled into the sheets as the words sank in, and a cold realization settled over him.

"You kidnapped me."

Aymara winced. She looked as though she wanted to deny it, but the hesitation lasted only a moment.

"Technically..." She paused, then lowered her gaze. "Yes, I kidnapped you."

His eyes narrowed. His pulse quickened, and a cold unease spread through his chest. He tried to push himself higher against the pillows, but his body remained weak and uncooperative, making the situation feel even more humiliating.

"Why?"

Aymara looked at him for a moment. There were a hundred things she wanted to say, and every one of them pressed against her throat.

She wanted to tell him about the apocalypse, about his future, about how he had died, and about how she had spent her second chance searching for him because she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him again.

But telling him everything at once would only make her sound insane, especially when he was already frightened, sick, and trapped on a ship in the middle of the ocean.

So she started with the part he could understand. "Because you’re sick and I worry about you."

Nathaniel stared at her. His disbelief came easily at first, almost comforting in its simplicity. "I was already in a hospital. Why worry about me."

"I know that I had thrown away the right to worry about you but..."

"And you took me out of it," Nathaniel cut in, his heart aching as she tapped on the sore subject he didn’t want to discuss.

"Yes, I did and..."

"Without my permission, Aymara."

Aymara lowered her eyes. "Yes. I took you without your consent."

Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. He tried to sit straighter, but weakness dragged at his muscles, forcing him back against the pillows.

The realization made his stomach twist. He hated that he couldn’t even stand, much less leave the room or demand that someone take him back.

"You once broke every promise, every word and every bond between us. Then why should I trust anything you say now?"

Aymara didn’t have an answer for that. She deserved his distrust. After six years of barely speaking to him, suddenly appearing at his hospital, kidnapping him, and bringing him onto a cruise wasn’t exactly a good foundation for trust.

She had expected his anger, but seeing it directed at her still hurt more than she had prepared for.

She sighed softly. "You don’t have to trust me yet. Give me time to show you that I am not the same idiot who gave you every reason to distrust me."

Nathaniel looked surprised by her answer. Some of the anger in his face faltered, replaced by wary confusion.

He had expected an excuse, an argument, or perhaps another attempt to justify what she had done. Her quiet acceptance of his distrust left him with nothing to fight against.

Aymara picked up the tray full of dishes. "But you need to eat. I made you something."

His eyes immediately shifted toward the food. "I don’t want it," he refused bluntly without even taking a proper look on what she made.

He didn’t want to get even an inch of her affection and then go another six or more years without it. It was best to keep away and not give himself false hope.

"You haven’t eaten properly since the hospital, Nate. Have something."

"I’m not hungry."

"That’s unfortunate," Aymara sat down beside the bed, keeping the tray balanced carefully in one hand. "Because I’m not leaving until you eat."

Nathaniel stared at her. Irritation flared again, but beneath it was a growing sense of helplessness. He hated that she could see how weak he was, and he hated even more that she seemed completely unbothered by his attempts to intimidate her.

"You’ve changed," he admitted.

Aymara smiled faintly. "I have... in many ways than you can imagine."

She scooped a small spoonful of porridge and held it toward him. "Open your mouth."

Nathaniel’s expression became incredulous. "No."

"Nate..." She met his gaze, her amber-brown eyes were soft while his grey-blue eyes were fierce and full of resentment. "Please?"

"No," he refused. Clenching his fingers on the covers to mask how he nearly gave in at her soft pleading voice.

Aymara sighed. She had expected this. Nathaniel had always been stubborn when he was sick, especially when he felt vulnerable.

In her previous life, she had once spent nearly half an hour convincing him to take his medicine, listening to him complain about the taste while pretending he wasn’t too weak to argue properly.

Back then, she had found his stubbornness amusing. Now, with the memory of his death still haunting her, she wanted to pull her hair out.

"You can hate me after you eat. In fact, the food will give you more energy to be angry with me," she made an appeal to convince him. "What do you say?"

"I don’t hate you."

The answer came so quickly that both of them froze. Nathaniel felt the words leave him before he could stop them.

Heat crept up his neck, and he looked away, suddenly more embarrassed by his honesty than by the fact that she had kidnapped him.

Aymara’s heart gave a painful squeeze. She lowered the spoon and studied the side of his face, wondering whether he understood how much those four words meant to her.

"Then don’t make me worry and eat your meal."

His gaze returned to her. There was something complicated in his eyes. His suspicion remained, but it was no longer as sharp as before.

"You shouldn’t be worrying about me. You haven’t been worried for six years," it hurt to mention how long she’d spent away from him just to come back and act like she never stopped caring for him. "I’ve been o-okay without you," those words cut through his throat.

Aymara tightened her fingers around the spoon and her eyes remained lowered. Even she could feel the words were choked out of him. He was hurt, she hurt him.

"You never looked back once," his face clammed up and the earlier blush disappeared. "Don’t start now. I am not worthy of your expensive care"