Chapter 83: Caregiver Duties

Kelvin’s POV

I woke up earlier than usual today.

And for the first few seconds, I didn’t immediately remember why I had slept in the guest room instead of my own bedroom.

Then I heard the sound of movement coming from the other side of the apartment. I pushed the blanket aside and got out of bed.

Maya had been discharged from the hospital a few days ago, and since then, I had remained in the apartment to take care of her.

I had told myself that it was temporary. She still needed help moving around, and I wasn’t going to leave her alone in that condition.

The accident had been bad enough to leave her needing crutches, even though the doctor had assured us that she would recover fully.

That knowledge did little to ease the guilt I carried. If she hadn’t come out to see me on my arrangement, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

I walked out of the guest room and found her already awake. She was sitting up in bed with her crutches resting against the wall.

"Why didn’t you call me?" I asked.

She looked at me. "For what?"

"If you needed to get up."

"I didn’t need anything," she said.

I glanced at the crutches then said to her, "You are supposed to be resting."

"I have been resting."

"You don’t look like you’re resting."

Her mouth curved into a small smile. "You’ve been saying that since I came home."

"Because you keep testing your limits."

"I am not."

"You were trying to walk around the apartment yesterday without your crutches."

She shook her head. "I was just walking from the bedroom to the kitchen."

"Without the crutches."

"I was only going a short distance."

I watched her for a moment before saying, "Don’t do it again."

Maya smiled faintly, but there was something softer in her expression. "I won’t."

I walked toward the window and opened the curtains. Morning light entered the room. When I turned back, she was still looking at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing."

I didn’t believe her, but I didn’t press.

"Can you take your medication before breakfast?"

She nodded. "I already did."

"Good."

I left the bedroom and headed toward the kitchen. A few minutes later, I started preparing breakfast while she sat at the island.

I had gotten used to doing things around the apartment myself over the past few days. Cooking. Cleaning. Making sure she had taken her medication. Keeping her crutches close enough that she didn’t have to reach too far for them.

It wasn’t something I had planned for. Neither was the fact that I had stopped spending my evenings at the office.

I had simply returned to the apartment one night, intending to make sure she was all right before leaving again.

I never left. Not completely.

Maya had nearly died because of me. At least, that was how it felt.

The image of her lying on the road returned to me more often than I wanted it to. Every time I closed my eyes, I could still remember the blood, the fear and the helplessness.

For a while, I had been certain that I was going to lose her. I couldn’t forget that no matter how hard I tried.

"Kelvin?"

I looked up. Maya was watching me. Then she asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yes."

"You look like you’re somewhere else."

"I was thinking about work."

She didn’t appear convinced, but she didn’t push the matter.

I finished preparing breakfast and placed the plates on the island. We ate in silence for a few minutes, then she asked, "Are you still going to work from the office today?"

"Yes."

Her eyes dropped briefly to her plate. "You could work from home."

"I can’t keep working from home," I said to her.

"I know," she said, then grew quiet for a second before looking up again. "Are you going to keep sleeping in the guest room?"

The question made me pause. Maya’s expression was calm, but I knew her well enough to recognise the question behind the question.

She wanted to know where we stood.

"I think it’s better this way for now," I answered.

Her fingers tightened slightly around her fork. "Because of my leg?"

"No."

She watched me for a moment, then nodded. "I understand."

I didn’t know if she did understand, so I said to her, "I’m not trying to punish you."

She gave a small smile. "But you haven’t forgiven me."

The words settled heavily between us. I leaned back in my chair. "Maya, what happened between us didn’t disappear because you got hurt."

The smile on her face faded. "I know."

"I was angry with you before the accident, and I’m still angry with you."

She looked down at her plate.

I watched her carefully. The truth was that I had no idea what I was supposed to do with the way I felt.

Seeing her in that hospital bed had changed something inside me. I had gone from wanting to end our relationship to being unable to imagine leaving her alone.

But that didn’t mean the trust had returned.

It hadn’t.

I could take care of her. I could worry about her. I could still love her. Yet whenever I remembered what she had done, the same anger would rise all over again.

Maya had lied to me.

She had gone behind my back and manipulated the situation surrounding Emerald without telling me. She had involved people who doctored evidence. She had used my bank account to pay them.

Then she had stood in front of me and denied everything.

I could forgive mistakes, but I didn’t know if I could forgive that.

Maya looked up again. "Are you planning to leave me?"

I stared at her. The question was simple, but I knew it wasn’t. A few weeks ago, I would have answered without hesitation. Now I couldn’t.

"I don’t know," I said finally.

The faint light in her eyes dimmed. "You don’t know?"

"No."

She pressed her lips together. "I thought after everything—"

"Maya."

She stopped. I took a breath and asked, "I am here, aren’t I?"

"Yes."

"Then stop trying to force me to answer questions I haven’t figured out myself."

Her eyes lowered.

I immediately regretted the harshness of my tone. I rubbed a hand over my face. "I didn’t mean it like that."

"I know."

I released a small breath. "I almost lost you."

Her fingers tightened around her fork.

The words were difficult to say, but I continued. "I don’t think you understand what that did to me."

She was quiet.

"I know you were hurt because I called you out," I said. "But I also can’t pretend that what happened before the accident doesn’t matter anymore."

"I understand."

I hoped she did. Because I didn’t know how much longer I could live between those two truths.

I looked at the time. I needed to leave.