Chapter 59

Two days later, Dahlia awoke at the Peaceful Medical Center. She was in a plain room containing a table, two chairs, and a hospital bed. Everything looked vaguely familiar.

“You’re up?” Dustin quipped, appearing at the doorway. He carried a bowl of chicken soup. Although not the most flavorful, the soup looked tantalizing; she hadn't eaten in two days. Her stomach growled at the sight.

“Were you the one who saved me?” she asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“You were injured and unconscious by the roadside. I patched you up,” he replied.

“You patched me up?” she repeated, furrowing her brows. “Oh, right! How long was I unconscious? What’s the situation with the Spanners? Are my parents in danger?”

His head spun from the barrage of questions.

“You were unconscious for two days and nights. Your family is safe. As for the Spanner residence, it’s burned down,” he answered calmly.

Relieved her family was safe, she sighed. Then, surprised, she asked, “Burned down? What happened?”

“I don’t know the specifics, but I heard there was a gas leak. Twenty to thirty people inside the Spanner residence perished,” he said.

“A gas leak? Do you think it was a coincidence?” she asked, confused.

“The wicked reap what they sow. The Spanners did many evil deeds and always sought to harm others. Their downfall… I suppose it was karma,” Dustin said.

She nodded, feeling relieved. With the Spanner household destroyed, she no longer feared them.

“Alright, stop dwelling on it. Have some soup,” he said, handing her the bowl.

“Thanks,” she replied. Hungry, she happily ate the soup, finishing the entire bowl quickly. She was still hungry, though, and considered licking the bowl.

“I’ll get you another bowl,” he said, noticing her expression. He served her a second bowl, which she also devoured.

After eating the chicken soup, she felt a pleasant warmth and contentment. Although only two bowls, he had cooked them knowing they aided recovery.

“Still hungry?” he asked.

She burped, then tried to discreetly swallow the air back down, embarrassed.

“I guess you’ve had your fill. Get plenty of rest. I’ll come back later.”

Before he left, she called out, “Wait! I have something to say!”

“What is it?” he asked, turning back.

“It’s about Chris. I’m sorry for accusing you,” she mumbled. Hesitating, she continued, “That guy was no good. I can’t believe he tricked us out of so much money. If only we’d listened to your advice.”

“What’s wrong with you today? Did the great Ms. Nicholson just apologize?” he teased.

“What do you mean? Do I seem unreasonable?” she retorted, offended.

“I’m kidding! So what if I got accused again? It’s not the first time. Forget about it,” he said, shrugging.

“Why does it sound so wrong coming from you?” she asked, frowning.

“Alright, let’s forget the past. Now, take off your clothes…” he said casually.

“Huh?” Her expression changed. She shielded her chest. “What are you planning to do?” she exclaimed.

“No need to get worked up. You have injuries. I’m helping you change your bandages,” he said, holding up ointment.

“You want to change my bandages?” she repeated. Realizing something, she quickly asked, “Were you the one who changed my bandages these past two days?”

“Who else?”

“Then… you’ve seen everything?!” she cried, eyes wide.

“So what if I have? It’s not like I haven’t seen them before. What’s the big deal?” he said easily.

“Get out of here!” she screamed, flushing with shame and anger. She couldn't believe his nerve. How dare he undress and touch her without consent! How despicable!

“I can leave, but think about this. Your injuries have healed, but the scars remain. If not treated promptly, they’ll be permanent,” he patiently explained.

She bit her lip, conflicted.

“Fine, since you obviously don’t care, I won’t help. Don’t regret it when you’re covered in scars,” he retorted, crossing his arms before turning to leave.

“Wait!” she called, finally heeding his advice. A woman’s vanity, even hers, outweighed the fear of death. The thought of scars was worse than death.

“What, changed your mind?” he asked, amused.

“Help me change my bandages, but blindfold yourself!” she ordered, throwing a piece of clothing at him to vent her frustration. She froze when she realized what she’d thrown: her underwear.

“You sure have weird tastes. I refuse to use this as a blindfold,” he remarked, throwing the underwear back.

“S-shut up!” she stuttered, embarrassed, her face reddening. He was tempted to touch her.

“Fine, I’ll only apply ointment to your back; you do the front,” he relented, fearing she'd leave.

“Hmph!” She pouted.

After hesitating, she agreed. She couldn't properly care for the scars on her back.

“I’ve finished applying ointment to your back evenly…” he trailed off, then continued coldly, “…Now, on to your butt—”