"Self-medicating? He might be a doctor, but he still needs to take proper care of himself," Patricia said, her voice slightly raised, irritated for reasons she couldn't quite explain.
Maria stood frozen, unsure how to respond, though she knew Patricia was right.
"Mr. Roman has always done things his own way. Only he can answer that," she finally said, lowering her gaze. It was then that Patricia sighed, calming down enough to dismiss her.
Patricia turned to head back to her room but hesitated at the hallway, glancing toward the stairs, clearly torn. He had already turned her down twice when she kindly offered to help, what if he did it again? She took a step forward, then paused, groaning in frustration. If only she wasn't so passionate about her work, she wouldn't care if he was sick or not. He was ungrateful and disrespectful, treating him felt like belittling herself.
But he was still a patient. And she had taken an oath to care for anyone in need of medical attention, regardless of who they were.
Resolving to treat him, whether he wanted it or not, she returned to the kitchen and placed her noodles on the counter. Then, without a second thought, she made her way to his room.
At his door, she knocked.
"Come in," came a low, strained voice from inside. She drew in a deep breath and stepped in.
The room was dimly lit, with only one bulb casting a faint glow. The curtains were wide open, and the cold wind rushed in through the window, brushing against her skin and sending goosebumps across her arms. For someone running a fever, why was he allowing cold air to blow on him?
She moved to the window on the right and pulled the curtains closed.
"I said leave it," Roman muttered, his voice hoarse and weak. Something about it made her feel a pang of guilt. How had he let himself get this bad?
"No. You shouldn't be lying in a cold room while burning up with fever," she replied. Her voice caught his attention, and he opened his eyes, realizing it wasn't Kay who had come in. Patricia noticed he allowed her in so easily which meant he probably thought she was Kay. Unfortunately for him, he was going to have to deal with her.
"Leave," he ordered.
But instead of turning back, she quickly approached the bed and said, "The only way you are stopping me from treating you right now is by killing me. I am a doctor, and you are a patient. Deal with it."
She sat on the edge of the bed, placing one hand gently on his forehead while resting her other hand on her own to compare temperatures.
As expected, he immediately swatted her hand away but she didn't back down. She calmly placed her hand on his forehead again.
Just as he raised his hand to push her away once more, she said firmly, "I know you can't stand being around me, but the faster I treat you, the sooner I will be gone. Let me do my job, and I will leave right after."
A few tense seconds passed. Then, slowly, his hand dropped back down.
She sighed in relief and pressed her hand to her own forehead, carefully reading his temperature.
"You are cold. Do you have a heater in this house?" She asked, arms crossed as she watched him lie there, barely responsive.
"Does this look like a hospital to you?" He shot back, his voice hoarse, but laced with his usual sarcasm.
She ignored him, unfazed, and moved away from the bed, scanning the room for anything useful, but it was barren. Sterile. Lifeless. Like a place no one truly lived in. For someone so powerful, his room was empty, just like the darkness in his eyes.
She sighed. Her gaze lingered on the shelves for a moment before a memory came rushing in: Zara's medicinal tea. She had given it to Patricia just in case, back when she worried about her being alone and sick. Zara would definitely lose her mind if she knew Patricia was using it on him of all people, but right now, she didn't care.
"I will be back. Don't move," she said, her voice firm, already turning for the door.
Five minutes later, she returned with a steaming cup in hand. The room still felt like a freezer, but she barely noticed it now, too focused on what she had to do. She walked straight to the bed and sat beside him, ignoring the tension.
"Here. Sit up so I can feed you," she said gently, holding out the cup.
"I will do it myself," he muttered and took the tea from her. Slowly, with effort, he pushed himself upright and took a sip.
"Here," he said after just a few gulps, handing it back. But she shook her head and pushed it toward him again.
"No. You have to drink all of it. It's not as strong as medicine, but it will help you feel better until morning."
He looked at her for a long second, like he was trying to read something on her face. Resisting felt pointless, she wasn't going anywhere unless he did as she said. With a quiet sigh, he raised the cup again and drank. As he did, he noticed her eyes fixed on him, deep, quiet, full of worry.
Why did she care so much? They had argued barely an hour ago. And now she was here… nursing him with the care of someone who hadn't just been insulted. He couldn't understand her.
"Very good," she said softly once he emptied the cup. She smiled, small, gentle, but genuine.
He noticed something about her. She truly loved caring for people. It wasn't about who it was, she just needed to help. It lit her up in a way nothing else did.
But just as he thought she was done, she set the empty cup on the nearby table and turned back toward the bed.
"I need to warm you up," she said, walking back to him. "Take off your shirt."
He raised an eyebrow. Did he misunderstand her?
She caught his look and immediately waved her hands. "No! Not like that, I just want to transfer body heat. Think of me as a regular doctor right now. It will be over soon," she added, her voice tinged with both embarrassment and determination as she climbed onto the bed and sat beside him. Her wide eyes locked with his, almost pleading.
For a moment, he just looked at her. Then, wordlessly, he pulled his shirt off in one swift motion.
But instead of lying back, he surprised her by leaning forward and suddenly pressing her down against the bed, his body hovering over hers.
Her heart thudded violently in her chest, her breath catching as their eyes met. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and she struggled to focus.
"Wha… what are you doing?" She asked, voice trembling, avoiding his gaze. Her fists clenched at her sides, the coldness of his skin nearly freezing hers.
"If you are going to do this properly," he murmured, his voice low and dangerously calm, "shouldn't both parties be naked?"
What?! Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest.