Raphael's fingers twitched at the sudden loss of contact. His sharp eyes flickered to me, widening with relief as he realized I was awake.
"Nadine..." His voice was breathless, laced with concern. He leaned forward, reaching out instinctively. "Are you okay? Does anything hurt?"
I did not answer. I was too disgusted with his act. By the way he looked at me with such concern.
My silence made him panic. His brows furrowed and he said hurriedly, standing up, "I’ll call the doctor. They need to check you again—make sure there’s no internal injury."
Minutes later, after the examination, they removed my neck brace and oxygen mask. My head was still throbbing, my limbs weak, but aside from the IV in my arm, I was stable.
"You’re lucky," the doctor had said. "It could have been much worse."
Raphael lingered by my bedside, his fingers brushing against my hair in a way that would have once comforted me.
"I’ll take care of the administration first," he murmured, his voice softer now.
Then, to my utter revulsion, he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead. A silent apology. A feigned regret.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my body stiff beneath his touch.