Then what am I

The next morning, Alaric showed up bright and early to pick up Vespera, driving her to Lysander’s clinic where Lysander unwrapped her bandages and changed her dressings.

Her once pristine hands were now crisscrossed with cuts—some scabbed over, some still fresh with traces of blood. Not a single spot on her pale palms was unscathed; the sight was shocking.

While replacing the bandages, Lysander glanced up at a tense Alaric and joked, “Feeling sorry now, right?”

Alaric blinked, then nodded, “Yeah, it hurts to see.”

Vespera's cheeks flushed; she couldn't understand why Alaric was talking nonsense like that.

But Alaric was being honest. Seeing those wounds on her hands really did hurt him.

After the bandages were changed, Alaric drove Vespera back home. She thanked him politely, without much warmth or coldness—just polite enough to leave Alaric feeling powerless.

From then on, Alaric was at her door every day, on time, to take her for her appointments. A week later, her stitches were rem