Dying

Leila POV:

My nurse, Ann, came in, handing me the medicine prescribed by Dr. Harry—something to make me appear more sickly as I ushered in phase three of my plan. After she left, I could feel the medicine taking hold, and boy, did it work. A wave of nausea crashed over me, and I barely made it to the bathroom before I was retching violently, expelling everything I had in my stomach.

That's how Drake found me. He insisted on coming in, pushing through the door with an urgency that startled me. He held my hair back as I heaved, his touch surprisingly gentle. There was no disgust on his face, no repulsion—just concern, pure and unfiltered. He rubbed small circles on my back, a calming rhythm that helped me focus through the waves of nausea. When I finally finished, I splashed water on my face and brushed my teeth, but he was still there, watching me with an intensity that made my heart ache.