Caring For Her Anyways

  Seraphina stirred slightly, letting out a faint mumble, and his heart stopped.

  He froze, holding his breath, watching as her eyes fluttered briefly before she shifted deeper into the couch. A small sigh escaped her lips, and she stilled again.

  He exhaled quietly, continuing his task, a small, tender smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  When he was finished, her hair was no longer wet, and her breathing remained slow and steady. He leaned back, studying her face. Even now, with her guard down, there was a hint of sadness in the curve of her lips, a shadow of whatever haunted her.

  Adolphus brushed his fingers lightly over her hair, his expression softening further. “You drive me crazy, little hunter,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

  He stood and took the damp towel back to his room, glancing at her one last time before disappearing into the shadows.

  She’s safe for now, he thought, his heart aching with both relief and longing. And that’s enough for tonight.

  Adolphus lingered in his room longer than he needed to, pacing slowly, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts that refused to settle.

  Would she ever be happy here?

  The question clawed at him relentlessly. His gaze drifted to the small window, where the rain still pattered softly against the glass.

  Happy like me? No, not like me. Like herself. Would she ever accept this life? Accept… me?

  His chest tightened at the thought. It wasn’t just her happiness he craved—it was her acceptance, her trust, her presence by his side without the constant shadow of resistance between them.

  Would she ever forgive me? Or would she always see me as the predator who stole her life away?

  Adolphus rubbed a hand over his face, frustrated with his own thoughts. He shook his head and returned to the living room, the soft creak of the floorboards announcing his presence.

  Seraphina was still asleep, curled up under the blanket, her breathing steady and calm. He stood there, watching her for a long moment, his arms crossed, as if trying to convince himself of something.

  Would she ever… someday…

  The unfinished thought lingered in his mind, too heavy to put into words.

  A sigh escaped him, and he sank onto the couch across from her, resting his elbows on his knees. He studied her face, memorizing every line, every curve. Her damp hair had dried now, a few stray strands falling over her face.

  She looks so small like this, he thought, his heart aching. So breakable. Is this really the same fiery woman who never hesitates to glare at me like she could take me down with a look?

  Adolphus stayed there, lost in his thoughts, until the heaviness in his chest became unbearable. Finally, he stood with another sigh and moved closer to her.

  “This isn’t comfortable,” he murmured to himself, kneeling beside the couch. “You’ll wake up with a sore back.”

  He hesitated, not wanting to wake her, but the sight of her sleeping on the cramped couch bothered him too much. Carefully, he slid an arm beneath her knees and another around her shoulders, lifting her with ease.

  She stirred slightly, her head lolling against his chest, but she didn’t wake.

  His steps were slow and deliberate as he carried her to his room, the only place he could think of where she’d be comfortable. He nudged the door open with his foot and laid her gently on the bed, tucking the blanket around her.

  Adolphus stood there for a moment, his hand lingering on the edge of the blanket. She looked so peaceful, but he couldn’t help the gnawing worry that this peace wouldn’t last.

  “You’ll hate me for this,” he whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “But I’ll take care of you, whether you want me to or not.”

  He straightened, stepping back and retreating to the doorway. He leaned against the frame, his eyes never leaving her.

  One day, he thought, his jaw tightening. One day, I’ll find a way to make this right. Even if it takes a lifetime.

  With that, he closed the door softly behind him, leaving her to her dreams.

  Adolphus sank onto the edge of his bed, the first pair of socks she had ever gifted him cradled in his hands. They were worn, the once-bright stripes fading, but he had never let go of them. He pressed them to his face, inhaling the faint, lingering scent of something warm and familiar, though dulled by time. His chest tightened as the memory pulled him under, vivid and sharp as though it had just happened yesterday.

  It was early morning, the bar still dimly lit from the night before, though the lingering haze of alcohol had been replaced by the aroma of brewing coffee. Seraphina sat at their usual booth, hunched over a steaming mug. She wore a gray hoodie two sizes too big and loose black pants, her fiery hair tucked under the hood. She had this way of making herself look invisible, but to him, she was always the brightest thing in the room.

  Adolphus strode in like he always did, dressed in a crisp navy suit and polished shoes. He loosened his tie as he approached the booth, a lazy smirk curving his lips.

  “You’re early,” he said, sliding into the seat across from her.

  “You’re late,” she retorted, her voice flat but her lips twitching in the barest hint of a smile.

  He leaned back, studying her. She avoided his gaze, focusing intently on her coffee. There was something about her today—a quiet energy, like she was holding back.

  “You’re hiding something,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

  “I’m not hiding anything,” she replied too quickly.

  “You’re a terrible liar, little hunter.”

  Her hand twitched, and before he could tease her further, she reached into her hoodie pocket and slapped something onto the table.

  “Here,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

  Adolphus glanced down at the small package, wrapped clumsily in brown paper. A pair of socks peeked out from the edges, striped in a riot of colors that clashed terribly with his usual monochromatic style.

  “What’s this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.