ABSOLUTE INSANITY: A forbidden bond-Chapter 230: Bandages

Chapter 230

KATYA POV

I stayed very still. Not because I was brave. Not because I trusted him completely. Because every instinct in me said that moving—suddenly, wrongly—would make this worse.

His fingers slid carefully through my hair, separating strands that had stuck together with blood.

The touch was firm but deliberate, like he was handling something fragile he didn’t want to break.

I flinched anyway.

He didn’t pull away. He didn’t snap at me either. He just paused, hand hovering near my scalp, waiting.

"Sorry," I whispered before I could stop myself. The word slipped out automatically, reflexive and unwanted.

"You don’t need to apologize," he said flat but not unkind. "Just tell me if it hurts."

It already did. Everything hurt. My head throbbed in deep, nauseating pulses, and my back felt like it had been split open and stitched back together wrong. But I nodded anyway.

The sound of him opening a packet—paper tearing softly—made my stomach twist. I recognized the sharp, clean smell of antiseptic immediately. It dragged me straight back to places I didn’t want to think about.

I clenched my hands in my lap.

When the cloth touched my temple, pain bloomed instantly, hot and sharp. I sucked in a breath through my teeth, a quiet hiss I couldn’t quite suppress.

His hand stilled. "That bad?" he asked.

"Yes," I said honestly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He adjusted, gentler this time, dabbing instead of pressing. The care in it surprised me. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t rough. He worked like someone who needed to get it right.

I stared at the floor to keep myself grounded—the pale marble veined with gray, a tiny crack near the baseboard I’d never noticed before. Counting details helped. It kept my mind from drifting somewhere dark.

"Did you lose consciousness?" he asked.

"I don’t think so," I said. Then hesitated. "Maybe. For a second."

A quiet curse left him under his breath. He shifted closer, blocking part of my view, and I became painfully aware of how near he was again.

The scent of him—clean, filled my lungs, making me freeze. He noticed. I knew he did because he stopped moving again.

He wrapped the fresh bandage carefully, fingers brushing my skin now and then. Each accidental touch sent a jolt through me—not fear exactly, but awareness. Too much awareness.

I focused on his hands instead. They were steady. Scarred. Strong. Hands that looked like they were used to breaking things, not fixing them.

"Why did the lights go out?" I asked suddenly. The question slipped out before I could overthink it.

His hands paused, just for a beat. "That’s being handled," he said. "You don’t need to worry about it."

That answer didn’t reassure me at all. But I didn’t push. He finished securing the bandage and leaned back slightly, giving me a sliver of space.

I hadn’t realized how tightly I’d been holding myself until that moment. Then his gaze dropped.

"Your back," My stomach sank, shoulders tensed. I didn’t answer. I didn’t look at him either.

I just stared at the floor, suddenly very aware of how exposed I felt sitting there in a thin shirt that did nothing to protect me from the cold—or from him.

He seemed to read the hesitation for what it was. "If you’re not comfortable," he said after a moment, "I can call the doctor in, she will be here in an instant."

The words weren’t gentle. They weren’t comforting. They were factual. An option given, not pushed.

I should have said yes but I didn’t. "No," the word came out too fast, surprising even me. I lifted my head slightly, heart thudding. "It’s fine. You can...." I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. "You can do it."

Thick Silence followed as I waited for him to argue. To insist. To question my judgment.

Instead, "All right," he said. "Tell me if you want me to stop." That was it. No pressure. No reassurance. No ’Are you stupid or what do you take me for’ remarks.

I turned away from him slowly, careful of my back, shifting so I was facing the bed instead of him.

My movements felt clumsy, stiff with pain and self-consciousness. My hands hesitated at the hem of my shirt.

God, this was stupid. It was just my back. Just skin. Just injuries he’d already seen on paper, probably worse on other people.

Still, my fingers trembled as I lifted the fabric inch by inch, stopping once it cleared the bandage. Cool air hit my scarred skin immediately, making me shiver.

I kept my eyes fixed on the wall. On the carved detail of the bedpost. On anything that wasn’t the man behind me.

I waited for a reaction. A sharp breath? A pause too long? Anything that would tell me he was disgusted with what he saw.

Nothing came.

The room stayed quiet, until I get the cold, brief and careful fingers moving my hair aside, gathering it gently so it wouldn’t fall against my back.

The touch was precise but it sent a shiver straight down my spine anyway. "I’m going to remove the bandage," he said quietly, so quiet that I didn’t even knew it was Romeo speaking.

"It’s stuck in places." I nodded even though I couldn’t see him. Pain flared when he started to peel it away, pulling a small sound from my throat before I could stop it.

He paused instantly, letting me gather myself. The next time he pulled, it was gentler. Still painful, but controlled. Like he was measuring every movement against my reaction.

I clenched my hands into the shirt covering my chest, reminding myself that he was just helping me. Nothing more, nothing less.

The antiseptic stung when it touched my skin. I hissed softly, shoulders tensing. "Almost done." he said, not apologizing, not softening it. Just acknowledging the pain.

I focused on his voice. On the steadiness of it. On the fact that he wasn’t rushing, wasn’t angry, wasn’t uncomfortable enough to pull away.

When he finished cleaning the wound, his fingers brushed my back again—brief, unavoidable as he secured the fresh bandage.

"Done," he said finally. I let out the breath I’d been holding. Before Romeo could move so I could pull back my shirt the loud sound of a ringing phone shattered the silence.

††

Well well well.

Whose phone is ringing?

Romeo’s or Katya, wait....Katya only have Michael’s number so if it’s her’s.....what? Hahaha thanks for reading.