Chapter 115

RICHARD POV.

What could possibly be holding her up?

I leaned back in my chair, trying to push away the nagging feeling in my chest. She had been in an accident earlier today, after all.

It wasn’t unreasonable to think she might need more time to get ready. Perhaps the pain from her injuries was slowing her down.

But then another thought crept in, one I couldn’t shake. What if something’s wrong?

The memory of the hospital flashed in my mind…her pale face, the nurses bustling around her, and the soft murmur of their voices as they instructed me on how to care for her.

She needs rest and support, they had said. She’s lucky it wasn’t worse.

Lucky. That word had stuck with me all day. She was lucky, wasn’t she? It could’ve been much worse. But now, sitting here, waiting for her, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was doing enough.

Was she comfortable? Was she in pain? Had she even been able to bathe with the bandages on her arm?

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Maybe I should’ve stayed upstairs to help her. The thought of her struggling alone, trying to manage with her injuries, made me feel an uncomfortable twinge of guilt.

The nurses’ words echoed in my mind again, a quiet reminder of my responsibility.

“Take care of her so she recovers quickly,” they had said. But was I doing that? Sitting here while she was upstairs, possibly struggling?

I glanced at the staircase visible from the dining room. Part of me wanted to march up there and check on her, but another part hesitated.

Would she appreciate that, or would she find it intrusive? Alisha had seemed independent, even strong-willed, despite her injuries.

Maybe she just needs space, I reasoned. She’ll come down when she’s ready.

But as the minutes ticked by, my patience began to wear thin. My foot tapped against the floor, a restless rhythm that mirrored the storm of thoughts in my mind.

What’s taking so long?

I thought back to earlier when I had knocked on her door. Her voice had been steady when she’d said she was getting dressed, but was she hiding something? The idea gnawed at me.

And then there was the matter of her injuries. The nurses had reassured me that they weren’t life-threatening, but what if they’d underestimated her pain? What if she was upstairs right now, struggling silently, too proud or embarrassed to ask for help?

I pushed my chair back slightly, the scrape of wood against tile cutting through the quiet room. My decision was made.

I would go check on her, just to be sure. If she was fine, I’d leave her be. But if she needed anything…anything at all…I’d be there.

I stood, the chair groaning faintly as I shifted my weight. But just as I was about to step away from the table, I heard it…a faint sound, barely audible over the hum of the house.

Footsteps.

I froze, my ears straining to catch the sound again. And there it was, soft and measured, coming down the staircase.

A wave of relief washed over me, easing the tension that had been building in my chest. She was coming.

I sank back into my chair, my eyes fixed on the doorway. I couldn’t see her yet, but I could hear her approach, each step growing louder, closer.

Finally, I thought, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. She’s alright.

As I waited for her to appear, I couldn’t help but wonder what had taken her so long. Had she been in pain? Had she needed help? Or was I just overthinking things?

Whatever the reason, I tried my best to make sure she was comfortable for the rest of the evening. She had been through enough today, and the least I could do was ensure she felt at ease here.

After all, I thought, she’s my responsibility now, I caused the accident and I have no choice than to take care of her.

ALISHA'S POV.

I descended the stairs with measured steps, each one carefully placed to convey the illusion of pain and weakness.

My arm, wrapped in bandages, hung slightly at my side, as though even the slightest movement would send a wave of agony through my body. In reality, I felt nothing but the satisfaction of my plan slowly unfolding.

As I reached the dining room, I plastered a faint, tired smile on my face. Richard’s eyes met mine, his expression a mixture of concern and relief. He had been waiting for me, his impatience thinly veiled behind a composed demeanor.

"Sorry I took so long," I said softly, easing myself into the chair closest to him. I made sure to wince as I lowered myself, as though the action required immense effort.

"Alisha," he began, his tone gentle but curious, "what took you so long?"

I forced another smile, tilting my head slightly as I answered, "Ladies’ stuff, you know how it is."

He nodded, though I could see the lingering question in his eyes. I ignored it, picking up my fork and beginning to eat.

The food was delicious, as expected in a mansion like this, but I barely tasted it. My mind was racing, calculating my next move, ensuring that every word I spoke was deliberate.

Richard, oblivious to my internal scheming, seemed content to eat in silence. But I knew I couldn’t let the quiet stretch too long. I needed to test the waters, to see how far I could push him.

"Richard," I said softly, my voice carrying a hint of hesitation.

He looked up from his plate, his brows slightly raised. "Yes?"

I took a deep breath, playing up my nerves. "I...I overheard you and your mother talking earlier about your wedding."

His expression didn’t change, but I saw a flicker of something in his eyes…curiosity, perhaps, or caution.

"I didn’t mean to eavesdrop," I continued quickly, "but it just...slipped out while I was resting. I heard a little bit about it."

Richard set his fork down, his attention fully on me now. "What about it?"