With blinking eyes, Henry followed Diois’s tall figure as he walked toward the kitchen counter.

Confused, Henry looked down at himself. He was fully dressed, and the pounding in his head had faded, the aches in his body feeling distant. Diois quickly returned with a tray of food, placing it on the bedside table before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Eat something, and you have medicine to take," Diois instructed, brushing a stray strand of hair away from Henry’s face.

With Diois’s help, Henry slowly sat up. "Drink water first," Diois said, handing him a glass filled with water and a straw.

As Henry reached for the glass, Diois held it firmly, not allowing him to take it. Instead, Henry drank from Diois's hand.

After Henry finished drinking the water, Diois set the glass down and reached for the tray of food.

"You need to eat," Diois said, his tone softer now, though it still held that unmistakable firmness.

He scooped up a small portion of food and held it out to Henry.

Henry hesitated, feeling conflicted about Diois feeding him.

His body was weak, and though part of him wanted to resist, this wasn’t the first time Diois had done this. Slowly, Henry parted his lips, and Diois carefully fed him the first bite.

The food was warm, but as Henry chewed, a wave of emotions rushed through him—humiliation, frustration, and yet, strangely, a faint sense of comfort that he didn’t quite understand.

Diois continued to feed him, methodically offering each bite, his gaze never leaving Henry's face.

There was an unexpected tenderness in Diois’s movements, a softness Henry had never seen in him before. But Henry remained unmoved, his heart hardened by what Diois had done last night. Forgiveness was out of the question.

When Diois offered another spoonful, Henry clenched his eyes shut, refusing to open his mouth.

His hands, hidden beneath the blanket, tightened into fists as tears welled up in his eyes. He was terrified that if he opened his eyes, he would break down in front of Diois—the last thing he wanted was to show his tears to the man who had caused him so much pain.

"Henry?" Diois's voice cut through the silence, and Henry flinched when Diois’s hand gently brushed his cheek. The sting of last night's slap still echoed in his mind.

"Henry... are you feeling unwell? Do you want me to call a doctor?" Diois asked, his voice tinged with worry as he studied Henry’s pale face, cradling it in his palms.

But Henry remained silent, his eyes closed, refusing to give Diois any response. The pain was too fresh, too deep, and he wasn't ready to let Diois see the tears threatening to spill over.

"Please, say something..." Diois’s voice broke the tense silence, his words laced with concern.

Henry almost let out a bitter laugh at the thought of Diois pretending to care.

“Henry, please, talk to me,” Diois’s voice was softer than Henry had ever heard it, filled with genuine concern. But that only made it worse.

Henry clenched his fists tighter under the blanket, refusing to look at him, refusing to acknowledge the false warmth in Diois's actions.

He didn’t want comfort from the same person who had been the source of his pain. The tears behind his closed eyelids threatened to spill over, but he bit down hard on his lip, fighting to keep his emotions in check.

Taking a deep breath, Henry slowly opened his eyes, but he refused to meet Diois’s gaze. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the man who had caused him so much pain.

The moment Henry’s eyes opened, Diois seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, though the worry didn’t leave his face.

"If you don’t like the taste of the food, I’ll order something different later," Diois said, picking up a spoon and scooping more food. "But for now, just eat a little bit. You need to regain your strength."

Too drained to argue, Henry allowed Diois to continue feeding him. Each bite felt heavy and difficult, as if swallowing sharp stones, but he forced himself to eat.

When the tray was nearly empty, Diois gently wiped Henry’s lips with a napkin and set the tray aside.

"Get some more rest," Diois murmured, brushing his hand lightly across Henry’s cheek before standing up.

After clearing the dishes in the kitchen, Diois returned and sat down beside him again, handing him some pills. "The doctor said you’re still too weak. You’ll need a few days of rest."

Henry stared at the pills in his hand, frozen for a moment.

Diois had brought a doctor to check on him? That realization left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He swallowed the pills with water and then lay down, turning his back to Diois without a word.

A creeping silence filled the room as Henry’s eyes fixed on the white wall in front of him, his heart restless and heavy.

Diois wasn’t leaving. His presence lingered, weighing down the room. After several minutes of silence, Henry felt the bed shift as Diois lay down next to him, making it painfully clear that he had no intention of going anywhere.

Diois gently turned Henry to face him and pulled him into his arms.

"I'll stay with you until you feel better. Let me take care of you," Diois murmured, his fingers lightly threading through Henry’s hair.

Henry’s face pressed against Diois’s chest, and though he didn’t want to be there, he couldn’t pull away.

Diois's hold on him was firm, his hand cradling Henry’s head, and Henry was too exhausted to argue. The tenderness in Diois’s voice, the soft, caring touch—it was overwhelming.

Henry’s body trembled, weighed down by the emotions he had tried so hard to suppress.

Despite every effort to stay composed, the dam broke. Silent tears began to stream down his face, soaking Diois’s shirt as Henry cried, no longer able to hold back the flood of pain he had been carrying.

When Henry opened his eyes again, the soft glow of late afternoon filled the room. Diois was still fast asleep, his arms wrapped securely around Henry, his breathing slow and steady. For a moment, Henry lay still, the weight of Diois’s embrace both comforting and suffocating. Even in sleep, he refused to let go.

Henry blinked, trying to steady his breath, feeling the warmth of Diois's body against his.

Slowly, he shifted, careful not to wake him, though every movement felt heavy, the weight of the night before still clinging to him.

His movements were cautious, inching away from Diois’s grasp, his heart pounding as he tried to untangle himself without disturbing the man who had become both his protector and tormentor.

Henry's breath hitched as he finally managed to slip from Diois’s arms. His heart raced, every small noise feeling louder in the quiet room.

Henry swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, the ache in his muscles reminding him of just how weak he still was. Standing by the edge of the bed, he glanced back at Diois, who remained still, his chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm, completely unaware of Henry's escape.

For a moment, Henry just stood there, watching him sleep. He felt a twinge of confusion in his chest—how could someone who had caused him so much pain look so calm, so gentle now?

But the softness of the moment didn’t erase what had happened between them. It only added to the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him.