Chapter 25
The Fragile Balance
Ares stirred from a restless sleep, his body stiff, aching from the hours spent lying motionless.
His mind felt foggy, clouded by memories and anger he couldn’t quite shake. He had never been
a patient man, but now, forced into this state of dependency, he found himself trapped in a
prison of his own making.
The sheets were tangled around his legs, his skin slick with sweat from the nightmares that had
plagued him through the night. He winced as he tried to move, the sharp pain in his leg still
fresh. His breath hitched, the frustration bubbling up from deep within.
And then, he felt her.
Selene.
The soft rustle of fabric. The light scent of her perfume a touch of vanilla and jasmine, a scent
so familiar it threatened to swallow him whole.
She was there, as always, tending to him. Ares didn’t look at her, didn’t need to. He could feel
her presence without seeing her.
She was always there.
He closed his eyes, a wave of anger sweeping over him. He hated how she moved so quietly
through his life, like a ghost he couldn’t escape. How she knew his every need before he could
voice it, how she was always there, waiting, watching.
But she wasn’t Charlotte.
And the bitterness that settled in his chest was sharper than any physical wound.
“You’re still here,” he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion and resentment. He didn’t need
to look at her to know she was standing just out of reach, her eyes focused on the task at hand.
“I’m always here,” she replied softly, her voice steady but distant.
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Ares didn’t respond. He didn’t want to acknowledge her. He didn’t want to feel the weight of her
gaze, the reminder of what he had lost, what he had failed to keep.
He tried to sit up, but his leg buckled beneath him, and he collapsed back onto the bed with a
a grunt of frustration.
“You can’t do this alone,” Selene said, her voice almost a whisper.
Ares clenched his jaw, unwilling to admit she was right. “I don’t need you,” he spat, his anger
rising once more. “I never asked for your help.”
She didn’t flinch. She never flinched.
Her hands moved with practiced ease, adjusting his pillows and bringing him water. But all the
while, there was something in the air tension, an unspoken understanding between them, one
that neither of them was willing to acknowledge.
He turned his head away, staring at the wall, the emptiness of the room suffocating him.
Her touch, when it came, was gentle too gentle. It made his skin crawl. The very thing he hated
was the one thing that kept him tethered to the present, to the pain he couldn’t escape.
“I’m fine,” he said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion.
She didn’t respond.
It was the silence that spoke volumes.
The bathwater was lukewarm, the steam swirling around them like the fog in Ares‘ mind. He sat
on the edge of the tub, trying to control his breathing, trying to ignore the way his heart raced as
Selene approached him.
He hated how her hands never hesitated, how they always moved with quiet confidence, as
though she had done this a thousand times before. How she knew what he needed before he
even spoke.
Selene knelt beside him, her presence enveloping him like a shadow. Her fingers brushed
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Chapter 25
against his shoulder as she helped him slip into the tub. Ares clenched his jaw, his body
stiffening at the contact, but he said nothing.
The warmth of the water did nothing to ease the ache in his muscles, nor did it ease the ache in
his chest. He felt exposed, vulnerable, in a way he hadn’t since the accident. He hated the way
Selene’s touch seemed to draw out all of his rawness, all of the anger he didn’t know how to
contain.
Her hands moved slowly, methodically, as she began to wash his back. The touch was clinical,
but there was something else there something too soft for the situation. Something that felt too much like care.
He wanted to pull away, to shout at her, to demand that she stop. But instead, he sat in silence,
his hands gripping the edge of the tub, his body rigid as she worked.
He didn’t look at her. He refused to.
But as she leaned forward to reach the far side of his back, he caught a glimpse of her face.
There was something in her eyes a flicker of something that didn’t belong in a nurse’s gaze. It
was tenderness. It was warmth. It was the quiet trace of something deeper, something familiar.
Ares swallowed hard, his throat dry.
“You’re not her,” he said suddenly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
Selene didn’t respond immediately. She kept her eyes on her work, her fingers moving carefully
over his skin. She didn’t flinch at his words.
“I don’t want you to be her,” Ares continued, his voice thick with bitterness. “I don’t need you to
be.”
“I’m not her,” Selene replied softly, her voice almost too calm.
He gritted his teeth, but his heart pounded in his chest. “Then why do you keep touching me?”
His voice cracked, and he cursed himself for it.
She paused, her hands lingering on his back for just a moment longer than necessary.
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“Because you need it,” she said, her voice low, filled with a quiet certainty.
He stiffened. “I don’t need anything from you.”
Her hands moved again, and this time, Ares didn’t flinch. He couldn’t. He couldn’t keep pushing
het away, couldn’t keep pretending that her touch didn’t do something to him.
But he wouldn’t admit it. Not yet.
Breakfast was cold by the time Ares finally made his way to the dining room, his legs unsteady
beneath him, but still, he pushed through the pain. He would not admit defeat. Not to her. Not to
anyone.
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