Dominique protested weakly. "I don’t need—"

Leo repeated, his voice flat and final. "You need to eat. So I’m peeling fruit. Don’t make it weird."

Dominique looked at Jason. Jason shrugged, his expression amused. He looked at Zeke. Zeke smiled knowingly.

He looked at Hazel. She was trying very hard not to laugh. Her lips were pressed together and her shoulders were shaking slightly.

Dominique asked, his voice full of wonder. "Is this real? Is this actually happening? Leonardo Moretti, the most terrifying man I know, is peeling an apple for me?"

Leo’s grip tightened on the knife. He pointed it at Dominique sharply, scaring him. Leo’s voice was low and dangerous. "Do you want the fruit or not?"

Dominique’s hands flew up in surrender, his voice quick. "Bro, chill. I’m joking. I’m joking. Please don’t stab me with that. I’ve already been stabbed enough this week."

Leo’s eyes narrowed, but he lowered the knife and went back to peeling.

Hazel scolded him, her voice firm. "Can’t you rest and lie still? You’re so talkative for a patient who just woke up yesterday!"

Dominique looked at her with wounded eyes, his voice dramatic. "I’m not talkative. I’m just expressing myself.."

Hazel replied dryly. "Express yourself quietly."

Dominique whined. "I can’t. It’s against my nature."

Jason laughed loudly, and Dominique grinned weakly.

Zeke closed his laptop, his voice casual. "I’m going to get some coffee. Anyone want anything?"

Dominique raised his hand weakly, his voice hopeful. "Freedom."

Zeke said flatly. "No."

Dominique tried again. "A new identity?"

Zeke shook his head. "No."

Dominique asked, his tone desperate. "A new neck?"

Zeke sighed. "Also no."

Dominique groaned, his voice defeated. "You’re all against me. Every single one of you."

Hazel patted his arm gently, her voice warm. "We’re all on your side. That’s why we’re annoying you."

Dominique sighed, his voice soft. "I hate it when you make sense."

Leo finished peeling the apple and handed it to Dominique. It was perfect, the peel removed in one long spiral, the flesh smooth and white.

Dominique took it, staring at it like it was a holy relic. His voice was awestruck. "I don’t know whether to eat this or frame it."

Leo’s voice was flat, but there was a hint of warmth beneath it. "Eat it."

Dominique took a bite, his voice surprised. "It’s... really good."

Leo nodded once and turned back to the window.

Dominique chewed slowly, a small smile spreading across his face. His voice was soft, sincere. "Thanks, bro."

Leo didn’t respond but his eyes softened, just a little.

Meanwhile, Bella had just finished instructing the cook on the next batch of nutrient-rich dishes for Dominique.

She had been running between the hospital and the house, making sure everyone was fed, everyone was comfortable, everyone was okay. Her days had blurred into a routine of checking on Dominique, coordinating with the kitchen staff, and making sure the others had what they needed.

Aunt Clara was on leave. Her side of the family was facing some issues, so she had taken a week off to be with them. The house felt strangely quiet without her warm presence.

Bella stood in the kitchen for a moment, her hand resting on the cool marble counter.

She looked out the window at the garden, the flowers swaying gently in the breeze, the sky painted in pale shades of blue and white. It was peaceful but something felt off.

She pressed her hand to her forehead. A dull ache had been building behind her eyes all morning, a heaviness that sat in her chest like a stone. She couldn’t quite name it, couldn’t pinpoint where it had come from. It was just there, lingering at the edges of her consciousness.

She decided to go upstairs and rest for a bit.

Her room was cool and quiet, the curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. Soft shadows fell across the bed, casting the room in a dim, peaceful glow. She sat on the edge of the bed, her head bowed, her hands clasped in her lap.

And then she remembered something...

Leo had killed her uncle.

Although Leo hadn’t told her directly, he had mentioned it once in passing that her uncle had been taken care of. She had nodded at the time, had accepted it, had pushed the thought away. She had buried it deep, focusing on other things, moving forward.

But now, sitting here in the quiet of her room, the memory surfaced like a bubble rising from the bottom of a deep lake. It floated up slowly, breaking the surface of her mind.

She remembered her uncle’s face. The way he had looked at her. The way he had made her feel small and powerless. She remembered the fear, the helplessness, the years of being trapped under his control. The thought of him, of what he had done, of what Leo had done to stop him, made her feel uneasy.

She lay down on the bed, pulling the blanket over herself. Her eyes closed, and she let herself sink into the softness of the pillows, let the quiet wrap around her like a cocoon.

Sleep came slowly, pulling her under like dark water.

When she woke, she felt better.

The heaviness was gone. The ache behind her eyes had faded. Her mind felt clearer, her body lighter. She sat up slowly, stretching her arms above her head, and took a deep breath. The tension in her shoulders had melted away.

She felt like herself again.

She got ready quickly. Washed her face, brushed her hair, changed into fresh clothes. She chose a soft blue top and comfortable jeans, something simple and easy, nothing that required too much thought.

She descended the stairs and packed a tiffin with the meal prepared by the cook. The containers were warm, filled with nourishing soups and stews—the kind of food that would facilitate Dominique’s recovery. She then retrieved a second tiffin for the others, which contained snacks, water and several treats.

She was going back to the hospital.