Chapter 144: Help Me, Please...

~~~~~ Third-person POV ~~~~~

Sylvia opened the bathroom door and stepped out. Warm air followed her into the room, carrying the faint scent of soap. She wiped her damp hands against the towel before her eyes moved toward the bed. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the machines and the occasional beep coming from the monitor beside Amelia’s bed.

Amelia was lying quietly beneath the blanket, her eyes squeezed shut, her lips slightly parted, and her free hand hidden beneath the blanket. The machine beside the bed continued to beep, each sound coming faster than usual and filling the quiet room with an almost nervous rhythm. The sound immediately caught Sylvia’s attention. She glanced at the screen before looking back at Amelia, noticing how tense her face looked despite her eyes being closed.

Sylvia’s eyes moved from Amelia to the machine, then back to Amelia. She slowly walked toward the bed and stopped beside it, watching her for a moment. Her footsteps were barely audible against the floor, but Amelia didn’t seem to notice her approach. Sylvia stood there silently, studying the small changes in Amelia’s expression.

There was something about the way Amelia was lying there that made Sylvia suspicious. Her breathing was slightly uneven, and there was a faint flush across her cheeks that hadn’t been there before.

Amelia swallowed, her throat moving visibly beneath her skin. Her fingers shifted slightly beneath the blanket, and she seemed to become even more aware of Sylvia’s presence.

"I’m fucking wet," she whispered.

A small smile appeared on Sylvia’s lips. She leaned slightly closer and asked, "What are you doing?"

The moment Amelia heard her voice, her eyes snapped open. She blinked rapidly, staring up at Sylvia in surprise before quickly looking away. Her face seemed to grow warmer, and she suddenly became very interested in the blanket covering her.

"No-nothing," she muttered under her breath.

Sylvia continued smiling. She didn’t need Amelia to explain. The rapid beeping from the machine beside the bed had already told her enough. She glanced at the monitor again, then slowly returned her attention to Amelia.

Amelia’s flushed face, the way she was breathing, and the hand she had kept hidden beneath the blanket made it even more obvious. Sylvia could almost hear the nervousness in every breath Amelia took.

Still, Sylvia didn’t push her. She simply reached and adjusted the bag on the bedside table and then gently placed the bowl of warm water beside it. The bowl made a quiet sound as it touched the surface, and a thin warmth rose from the water.

"Time to clean up," Sylvia said gently as she slipped one arm behind Amelia’s back and carefully helped her sit up. She moved slowly, making sure not to pull at any of the places where Amelia was hurt.

Amelia winced slightly.

Sylvia immediately slowed down. "Easy."

Her voice softened even more as she waited until Amelia was comfortable before dipping the white towel into the warm water.

She squeezed the towel between her fingers, letting some of the warm water drip back into the bowl, then gently took Amelia’s hand.

The towel touched Amelia’s skin. The warmth spread across her hand, soft against the coolness of the room.

Sylvia began cleaning her fingers first, carefully wiping away the sweat that had gathered on her skin.

Her movements were slow and gentle, almost painfully careful, as if she were afraid that even the slightest pressure might hurt Amelia. She took her time with each finger, never pressing harder than necessary.

Amelia noticed it.

She noticed every little thing—the warmth of the towel, the softness of Sylvia’s fingers, and the way Sylvia’s thumb occasionally brushed against her skin while she cleaned her hand. Even the smallest touch seemed to linger longer than it should have.

It should have felt innocent. It should have been nothing more than someone helping an injured person clean herself.

But Amelia’s body didn’t seem to understand that.

Her breathing slowly became heavier. She closed her eyes and bit down on her lower lip. She tried to remain still, but the tension in her fingers betrayed her.

Sylvia noticed the reaction immediately, and her hand paused for half a second as she looked at Amelia’s face. The woman’s eyes remained closed, her lashes resting against her cheeks as she tried to control her breathing.

Sylvia’s lips curved faintly. She knew exactly what was happening. She could see it in the way Amelia’s chest rose and fell, in the way she kept swallowing, and in how hard she was trying not to react.

If they were at home, if Amelia wasn’t injured, and if things between them were still the way they used to be, Sylvia knew she wouldn’t have stopped there. She would have given Amelia exactly what she was asking for without making her say it twice.

The thought came naturally, almost painfully so.

But this wasn’t home, and Amelia was injured.

The reality settled over Sylvia again, forcing her to remember where they were and why she needed to be careful.

More importantly, Amelia didn’t remember her.

That fact was enough to keep Sylvia’s desire under control. No matter how much she wanted to forget herself for a moment, she couldn’t ignore that Amelia was looking at her with memories she couldn’t reach.

Whatever Amelia felt right now, Sylvia couldn’t take advantage of it. If she crossed that line, Amelia might misunderstand her. She might see Sylvia as nothing more than a woman taking advantage of a vulnerable person.

And Sylvia couldn’t bear the thought of Amelia looking at her that way.

She wanted Amelia to remember her on her own.

She wanted the recognition in Amelia’s eyes to come from a real memory rather than a moment of confusion.

So she forced herself to stay calm and continued cleaning Amelia’s hand, then her arm. She kept her attention on the towel, using the simple task to keep herself grounded.

She dipped the towel into the warm water again whenever it became cool, gently wiping Amelia’s skin with slow, careful movements.

The room remained quiet except for the soft sound of water moving inside the bowl and the steady beeping of the machine. Every sound seemed clearer in the silence.

Every now and then, Amelia’s breathing would change.

Sylvia noticed every time and tried not to react. She kept her expression calm even when she could feel her own restraint becoming harder to maintain.

But there was something deeply tempting about seeing Amelia respond to her touch even when she was doing nothing more than helping her. It reminded Sylvia of everything she had been trying so hard not to think about.

She moved the towel over Amelia’s shoulder, careful around the places where she knew she was injured. Her fingers became even lighter as she worked around the tender areas.

"Does this hurt?" Sylvia asked quietly.

Amelia shook her head. "No."

Sylvia nodded and continued.

She cleaned her slowly, never rushing her movements. When she reached another sensitive area, she became even more careful. Her eyes remained on Amelia’s face, watching for even the smallest sign of discomfort.

Amelia’s fingers curled slightly against the blanket.

Sylvia saw it. She pretended she hadn’t.

She continued wiping Amelia’s body, enjoying the small reactions she drew from her despite herself. She tried to focus on taking care of Amelia, but every little change in her breathing made that difficult.

There was a strange tension in the room now. Neither of them spoke about it... though neither of them needed to.

Amelia’s breathing said enough.

So did the way she kept looking at Sylvia whenever she opened her eyes. There was confusion in those looks, but there was something else too—something Amelia couldn’t seem to name.

Sylvia noticed every glance.

She pretended not to.

Eventually, Sylvia lowered the towel. She glanced at Amelia before clearing her throat.

It was time to wipe her down properly.

Sylvia hesitated.

The towel remained in her hand as she looked at Amelia. She knew she needed to help Amelia clean herself, but she also knew exactly how difficult that would be for her, especially now.

She looked at Amelia’s flushed face, then at the towel in her hand, before looking back at Amelia.

"Um... uh..." Sylvia started, suddenly unsure of how to say it.

Amelia opened her eyes.

Sylvia forced herself to sound as responsible and calm as possible. "Are you going to wipe yourself down?"

She tried to make the question sound casual.

It wasn’t... not to her.

Because Sylvia knew herself well enough to understand that if she continued, if she had to see just how much Amelia was reacting to her, she might not be able to control herself.

She had spent the entire time reminding herself to be careful, reminding herself that Amelia was injured and that she didn’t remember their relationship.

She had already spent the last several minutes forcing herself to keep her distance. Seeing Amelia like this was making that harder.

Amelia’s eyes were already clouded with desire. Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling. She looked almost embarrassed by the way her own body was reacting, but she didn’t look away from Sylvia for long.

She looked down at Sylvia’s fingers, which were still holding the damp towel, then slowly lifted her gaze back to Sylvia’s face.

There was something vulnerable in her expression now, something that made Sylvia’s heart tighten.

Amelia swallowed.

"Are you not my girlfriend anymore?" she asked, her voice quiet and calm.

Sylvia froze.

For a moment, she didn’t know what to say.

The question hung between them, heavier than it should have been.

Amelia bit her lower lip again. Her free hand slowly moved as she reached toward Sylvia’s hand, her fingers trembling slightly before finding it.

"Help me, please."