"Vitals are normal," she finally said, "but she's severely malnourished. She must eat, or it will become dangerous."
"But she refuses everything..." Darya's voice was strained.
"I'll start her on IV nutrition," Emily said, packing up. "Also, her mental state is very concerning. I recommend psychological intervention."
"I'll inform the boss."
After Emily left, silence settled over the room again.
Darya sat on the edge of the bed and gently took my hand. "Ma'am..." her voice broke, "You can't continue like this... You need to eat something..."
I slowly turned to look at her. Her eyes were red and swollen—she'd been crying.
"Darya." I finally spoke, my voice hoarse and unrecognizable.
"Ma'am!" She gripped my hand tightly. "You're willing to talk!"
"Help me..."
"Tell me what! I'll do anything!"
"Close the curtains..." I whispered. "Too bright."
She paused, then nodded. "Of course."
The heavy curtains drew shut, plunging the room into darkness.
I closed my eyes again.
In the days that followed, I maintained my silence.
Doctors came daily for examinations, and nurses administered IV nutrition.
I cooperated with all treatments but refused to speak again.
Kholod occasionally appeared in the doorway. He would stand there, expressionless, watching me for a moment before turning away.
I watched his retreating figure with dead eyes. That man who had taken me to Iceland to see the aurora, who had clumsily braided my hair...
He was gone. What remained was a monster I never wanted to see again.
"Noelle."
Anastasia's voice pulled me back to reality. She and Anya had returned from their business trip to discover what had happened.
She stood beside the bed, holding a bowl of soup.
"Sit up," she commanded.
I didn't move.
"Noelle." She called again. "Sit up and drink this."
I slowly sat up and accepted the bowl.
The soup wasn't hot—cooled to the perfect temperature. A faint warmth stirred in my chest.
I slowly brought the spoon to my lips, sip by careful sip.
