Chapter 12: I Don't Think We've Met Before

"What about me?" Stefan asked casually.

Dorothy wasn’t dreaming—he was talking. She rubbed her eyes thoroughly, but he was still there. He was standing tall, and he talked... He just freaking talked.

Dorothy nearly passed out on her bed. She wanted Stefan to get better, but this was too sudden—it scared her.

As Stefan moved closer, she inched even farther back, almost pressing herself against the wall. She wished she could disappear into it.

Stefan stood there, staring at her quietly while she silently begged the wall to swallow her.

"You were right," he said, and she blinked, staring at him in confusion.

Stefan stepped forward again, but she quickly pointed at him, signaling him to stay back.

"A crippled person doesn’t just suddenly walk overnight. I could believe it if you were only talking, but you’re standing. Have you been faking your injury?" Dorothy asked, her eyes searching his for answers, but he gave nothing away.

She realized how ridiculous her question sounded. She remembered that night—how she had seen him struggling to walk but failing. He couldn’t have been faking it.

"I just don’t understand," Dorothy mumbled, biting her lip to suppress the strange emotions bubbling inside her.

"You told me yesterday that I could talk and walk. I just needed someone to compel me," Stefan said, watching her battle with her thoughts.

Dorothy looked at him. "What compelled you to start talking and walking?" she asked, and she didn’t miss the way Stefan's eyes softened at her question. He sat on the edge of her bed, but this time, she didn’t move away.

"You did," he said simply.

"What did I do?"

"You saved me."

"How did I save you?" Dorothy felt like she was going mad with all the questions.

"You don’t remember what happened last night?" Stefan asked, narrowing his thick eyebrows.

Dorothy tried to recall, but everything felt dark and jumbled. She remembered struggling to breathe and walk, but nothing was clear.

"Do you have bad dreams often?" Stefan’s voice was softer now.

Dorothy nodded. She did, and most times, she couldn't even remember what they were about.

Stefan scooted closer and touched her face. His hands were warm and cold at the same time, sending an unexpected shiver down her spine.

"For nine years, my world had lost meaning ever since I lost my legs and voice. I tried everything to get better—therapy, training—but nothing worked. I watched people recover before me, and I thought I’d be like this forever... until you stepped in and changed that," he said, looking at her with warmth in his eyes.

Dorothy didn’t move away this time. She allowed herself a moment to take in his voice—it was deep and smooth, like hot chocolate with a bit of crunch. It was so nice to listen to.

"You have such a lovely voice... whoever did this to you must have hated you," she mumbled.

Stefan laughed briefly, the sound disappearing as quickly as it came.

"It doesn’t matter now. I’m doing better, and you will too. I'll start by dealing with the person who poisoned you last night," Stefan said.

"What?" Dorothy’s eyes widened in shock.

"I was poisoned last night?" she asked, surprised. "That’s unbelievable. Jessica looked so sweet; she would never do that," Dorothy murmured.

"Even the sweetest-looking person shouldn’t be trusted, but I’m handling it. Just lay back and rest," Stefan said.

What he did next made Dorothy's heart almost leap out of her chest—he leaned in and kissed her forehead. His lips were warm, exactly the comfort she needed.

She had never been this close to a man before, never had a man make a move like this. She hoped her cheeks weren’t as red as ripe tomatoes.

"Rest well. I’ll have trusted food brought to you soon," he said before leaving.

Her heart kept racing. She knew Stefan's lips had moved, but the moment they touched her forehead, all she could hear was the loud pounding of her heartbeat.

"Get a grip, Dorothy. It’s just a forehead kiss—it’s nothing!" she muttered to herself, but it kept replaying in her mind. Feeling frustrated, she fell onto her bed.

Stefan walked into the living room and frowned at the sight of who was sitting comfortably on his couch. The man was dressed in his usual black suit—always black, no matter the day or occasion. He lounged there, legs crossed on the table, flipping through channels with the remote, yawning as if nothing interested him.

"What are you doing here?" Stefan asked plainly.

The man smirked, still flipping channels as if he didn’t recognize Stefan speaking to him.

Stefan glanced at Griffin, who sat far away from the man. Griffin stood up, snatched the remote, and turned off the TV.

"Mr. Stefan didn’t invite you over. Please see yourself out," Griffin instructed coolly.

The man chuckled briefly before replying.

"Griffin, why are you still translating words for him? He can talk now. Don’t you want to go home?" his voice dripped with mockery and fake concern.

Griffin showed no reaction to the taunt.

The sound of a door opening made all three of them turn.

Harrison stepped out from the guest bathroom, grabbed a towel from the stand, and dried his hands.

"What are we talking about?" he asked playfully.

"Harry, Stefan asked his proxy to kick me out. I didn’t know he was this ungrateful," the man reported.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Dorothy appeared, looking confused at the unfamiliar faces. She didn’t know Stefan had friends.

"Look who’s joined us," Harrison smiled, nodding towards Dorothy.

"Hi, let me introduce myself properly. I’m Harrison Berlymore, a professional medical doctor with all my licenses completed," he said proudly.

"I know, I look too young to have achieved all I have, but it is what it is," he added, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt.

Dorothy chuckled. He had a natural humor, and he was a doctor—something she had always wanted to be.

"Thank you for treating me last night. You said Stefan made you come all the way from California to Paris. I’m really sorry for the inconvenience," she said apologetically.

A ragged deep, unfamiliar voice echoed. "Now I see."

Dorothy turned toward the sound. She hadn't noticed him before—he was dressed in an all-black suit, the darkest shade she had ever seen. His hair was dark, nails painted black, and the only other color on him was the silver lip ring that contrasted against his pale skin.

"I don't think we've met before. My name is Levi," he said, extending his hand covered with a back thick glove for a handshake.

Before Dorothy could respond, Stefan stepped in front of her, blocking the interaction.

"You have to go now," Stefan’s voice was laced with warning.

"Woah, fine, we’ll leave. But don’t keep us from meeting your wife. We should all go out for dinner sometime," Levi said with a smirk, but Stefan’s expression remained blank.

The air grew thick with tension.

"For the love of God, Stefan, we’ll leave. Just try not to call me back because I’m going to China," Harrison said, grabbing his jacket.

"Dorothy, or should I say Mrs. Everest, Levi and I will be leaving now. Take care," Harrison waved.

Levi smirked as he followed Harrison out.

Once they left, the atmosphere relaxed, and Stefan turned to Dorothy with a softer expression.

"Are you ready to eat now?" he asked gently.

Dorothy nodded, she had questions concerning his visitors but she thought to keep it to herself for now.

Stefan gestured to Griffin, who pulled out his phone and made a call. Taking Dorothy's hand, Stefan led her to the dining table, surprising her.

"I’ve ordered breakfast. It’ll arrive in less than five minutes, sir," Griffin said, and Stefan nodded.

Dorothy still found it hard to believe Stefan was walking, talking, and being extra kind. This wasn’t normal.

"Stefan," she called softly, gently taking his hands, she feared he might reject her but to her surprise, he didn't. "What really happened? How did you recover overnight?"