Zoya’s P.O.V
As the light from outside filtered through the curtains, I reluctantly opened my eyes, greeted by the dawning of a new day as the sunlight forced its way into my room.
I blinked several times, trying to make sense of it all as I felt my head pounding and entire body aching.
How long was I out? What time was it? And who on earth was knocking at my door like the world was about to end?
My body felt heavy, as if every movement required an immense effort. I didn't want to get up. I didn't want to wake up. I didn't want to do anything.
What I wanted was to stay here in bed until the day turned to night again and I could ignore all my problems forever.
I didn’t want to get up. I couldn’t bring myself to get off the bed and get to the door. I felt completely drained, emotionally and physically.
But that person at my door knocking just won't fucking stop.
Ugh! Fine.
Ignoring the fatigue that threatened to engulf me, I pushed myself upright, determined to answer the persistent banging on my door.
I didn’t even want to remember what had happened last night, because in all honesty…it still felt like I had been dreaming. But all I did remember was that after I had been left alone in the cabin, I had somehow managed to get to the door to shut and lock it tight. And then I had all but thrown a band-aid over the cut on my forehead and fallen to bed without a single care in the world.
"Zoya? Zoya! Anybody home?"
Each step felt like a laborious journey as I made my way towards the door. Nausea churned within me, threatening to pull me back into the abyss of weakness.
My knees buckled beneath me, and I cursed myself for being weak. Maybe if I hadn't been such a frail woman, I could have fought Silas out of my cabin the very night I stumbled upon him here.
Fuck it, if I hadn't been such a pushover, I probably wouldn't have been thrown all the way here in the first place.
Then things would have ended up very differently.
Yet, fueled by a resolute determination, I pushed away those negative thoughts and reached out to turn the doorknob, ready to confront whoever stood on the other side.
Was it Silas? Cam? I didn’t know, I couldn’t tell anymore, not until I opened the door myself.
A surge of relief washed over me as my eyes met Ezra's concerned gaze. His presence brought a sense of security amidst the chaos that had consumed my world.
But even as I attempted to offer him a reassuring smile, my strength waned, and I collapsed into his waiting arms.
Ezra's quick reflexes prevented my fall from being harsh, his strong embrace offering both support and solace. "Zoya?" he whispered into my ear. "What happened? You’re burning up!"
I didn't answer. I couldn't. I didn't have the strength.
He carefully picked me up into his strong arms and carried me to my room, his touch gentle against my feverish skin. It was a testament to his unwavering loyalty that he refused to leave my side, even as I weakly protested, yearning for solitude in the depths of my despair.
Once I was nestled back on top of my bed, I summoned the strength. My voice, hoarse and feeble, whispered, "Please, Ezra, I need to be alone. I can't bear anyone's presence right now."
But Ezra, his eyes filled with worry, shook his head. "Zoya, it's already evening. We've been trying to reach you all day, and your absence has worried everyone. You have a fever. Let me take care of you."
His words held a sense of urgency, a genuine concern that tugged at my heartstrings.
I remembered then, the forgotten phone, stranded in my car, its presence a cruel reminder of my isolation.
How many missed calls and messages had gone unanswered, leaving the ones closest to me in a state of perpetual anxiety?
I felt sorry for them, but somehow, I felt even sorrier for myself.
Because I knew that the only people who would call me now were Ezra and Cam. No one else cared about me enough to call. Especially not my parents.
Was it weird? That even after all she had said and done to me…right now, all I wanted was to become her little girl again so I could hide in her lap and forget about everything else? After all, when times were desperate, only a mother’s love and a father’s warm embrace can soothe a child.
Reluctantly, I yielded to Ezra's persistence, allowing him to tend to my needs. His touch, gentle and soothing, brought a modicum of comfort, as he administered cool compresses to ease the fever that ravaged my body.
“I don’t think your cut’s been infected.” He changed the band-aid and cleaned the cut properly before applying a new one. “But something brought on the fever. Maybe it was the shock of the accident.”
He had no idea how far off he was. It was shock alright, that was causing my fever. Just not from the accident.
However, Ezra’s presence in the room felt almost familiar, like he belonged in here, with me. He was so… soft with me. He treated me like a fragile doll, and normally that would make me feel a little uncomfortable since I was the one who was used to taking care of everyone. But with him, it felt… affectionate.
My family and peers had always regarded me as some sort of punching bag that would never break no matter how many times they beat me up. Not physically, but mentally. And to have this man treat me like he'd yell at the earth if I fell and scraped my knees… it was the best I had ever felt in a while.