Chapter 3~ Healing Herbs

I woke up to the scent of cedarwood and something undeniably masculine. Groggy and disoriented, I blinked at the ceiling, my brain struggling to reboot. The last thing I remembered was the hospital—the blaring alarms, Mrs. Evans calling my name, and then... nothing.

So why was I here? And more importantly, where was I?

I pushed myself up, scanning the room. It was neat, but definitely lived-in. A bookshelf stuffed with war history and mechanics books lined one wall. A desk in the corner was cluttered with papers, and near the wardrobe sat a set of weights that looked suspiciously like they'd never been used. The faint scent of cologne lingered in the air, wrapping around me like an invisible sign that read: You are 100% in a man's room.

Okay. Time to panic.

I gripped the blankets, my mind racing. Did I sleepwalk my way into some guy's room? Had I been kidnapped? Oh God, was I about to hear the words, Good morning, wife. You've been in a coma, but don't worry—we had a beautiful wedding?

Before I could work myself into a full-blown meltdown, the door creaked open.

"You're awake," Mr. Evans said, stepping inside with a relieved smile.

I squinted at him. "Define 'awake' because I'm really hoping this is just a weird dream."

He chuckled, dragging a chair beside the bed. "You had another episode at the hospital. The doctors said it was a reaction to trauma. Once you stabilized, they let us bring you home. We thought you'd be more comfortable here."

Home.

The word settled uncomfortably in my chest. I glanced around the room again. "Then...whose room is this?"

Mr. Evans rubbed the back of his neck. "Our son's. Liam. He's away right now, but we're setting up a separate room for you. This was just the best option in the meantime."

Oh. So they had a son. Great.

I exhaled, nodding. "Well, as long as he doesn't come home and try to wrestle me out of bed, I guess I can live with that."

Mr. Evans chuckled. "I think you'll be safe. As long as you don't taste Ella's healing herbs," he added with a knowing smile.

I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

He leaned in slightly, as if sharing classified information. "She's in the kitchen making one right now. Don't say I didn't warn you."

I gasped dramatically. "Oh no. Is this a drink it and instantly regret all your life choices kind of situation?"

Mr. Evans grinned. "Let's just say... if you survive it, you'll probably live forever."

I burst out laughing. "Thanks for the heads-up. I'll keep a safe distance."

"My work here is done." He stood up, returning the chair to its former position. "I'll go tell Ella you're awake."

And with that, he left, leaving me both amused and slightly terrified of whatever was brewing in that kitchen.

I lay down on the bed, inhaling the faint scent of cologne still lingering in the sheets. It was oddly comforting.

But then reality hit me—I'd been asleep for two years. Two. Years. I groaned and sat up, my body feeling like it had forgotten how to function.

That's when I noticed the white sundress I was wearing. Definitely not mine. Probably Ella's. At least it was clean and comfortable.

Taking a glance around the room, I took in the details properly this time. It was beautiful in a simple, effortless way. Cozy, yet practical. Everything screamed typical man. No unnecessary decorations, no fancy extras. Just straightforward and functional.

I smirked to myself. Men really do keep things simple.

I stepped out of the room, taking only a few steps before coming across a wooden staircase. As I started descending, a strong, almost aggressive smell of herbs hit my nostrils like a punch.

Mr. Evans was right. This was a mistake. I should've stayed in bed, far away from whatever healing potion Ella was brewing.

Just as I was about to retreat—no, bolt—back to the room, a voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Sara? Is that you?"

I froze mid-step. Busted.

Forcing a smile, I turned to see Mrs. Evans peeking from the kitchen, her face lighting up.

"Yes," I said, attempting to sound cheerful and not like someone plotting an escape.

She wiped her hands on her apron and gestured for me to come over. "Evans told me you were awake! Don't just stand there, come here."

Well, so much for avoiding the herbal disaster zone.

Bracing myself, I made my way toward her, hoping whatever she was cooking wouldn't be my undoing. I forced my feet forward, each step bringing me closer to the source of the highly suspicious aroma.

As I reached the doorway, I caught sight of Mrs. Evans standing over a steaming pot, a wooden spoon in one hand and a look of utter determination on her face.

The kitchen itself was warm and homey. Jars  of spices were neatly lined on the shelves. It would have been charming-if not for the bubbling witch's brew that looked like it could dissolve steel.

"Come, come," she said, waving me over. "You need something nourishing after all that time in the hospital."

I hesitated, my survival instincts screaming at me to run. "Oh, you know, I actually feel great. Really. Like I could wrestle a bear."

Mrs. Evans gave me a knowing smile.

"Nonsense. You need strength." She turned back to the pot, ladling some of the murky liquid into a bowl. The smell intensified, hitting me like a slap.

I gagged. Did something just move in there?

She placed the bowl in front of me with the kind of finality that said there is no escape. "Go on, dear, take a sip."

I stared at the concoction. The concoction stared back. Somewhere in the distance, I swore I heard funeral bells.

I picked up the spoon, offering a weak smile. "If I don't make it, tell Mr. Evans I appreciated his warning."

Mrs. Evans let out a hearty laugh, patting my shoulder. "Oh, hush. It's not that bad."

Taking a deep breath, I lifted the spoon to my lips. Goodbye, taste buds. You were loved.

I took a sip.

And instantly regretted every decision that had led me to this moment. It tasted like burnt grass, old socks, and something vaguely poisonous. My body went into full revolt, but I forced myself to swallow, giving Mrs. Evans a thumbs-up as my soul slowly left my body.

She beamed. "See? Not so bad!"

I set the spoon down very carefully."Mmm. Yep. Delicious. Definitely won't haunt my nightmares."

Mrs. Evans nodded, satisfied. "Good.

There's more for later."

I choked on air.

Somewhere upstairs, I was pretty sure

Mr. Evans was probably enjoying my suffering.

"Who's your favorite character so far? Let me know in the comments! And if Sara made you smile, you totally owe her a vote. 😉🥰"