Part
I.
Tristan
picked up the items from the white floor and walked to her door, with a smile
as sweet as honey on his face. He was trying to suppress his feelings, which is
no small feat, and he nervously twisted the knob open.
When
he went in, he saw Reeya’s head turn to his direction. Her eyes landed on his
instantly, then on the blankets. He saw confusion cloud in.
Before
speaking, he cleared his throat, “I brought you some blankets. You can give me
the one you’re using – it’s not really that thick, you won’t be comfortable.”
He said in a friendly tone. He stepped towards her and laid down the blankets
from his arms to the foot of his bed. It was better to see if she’ll trust him
enough to use them herself, rather than putting them on her.
She
still gazed blankly at the two bulky things as Tristan seated himself on the
same stool from yesterday, and he opened the book, thankful for the invention
of bookmarks.
“My
friends told me I fell asleep while we were reading; I’m really sorry about
that. I was just really, really tired – ” he suddenly yawned. As he blinked
back the moisture from his eyes, he felt her gaze shift to him and he sat up
straighter, feeling a lot more nervous. In which case, he was totally lost.
“Anyway,”
he continued, “Where were we? Oh. We finished the chapter seventeen. That’s
incredible.” He carefully set down the bookmark on his lap and held the book in
one hand.
“‘Till
Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield, and looked in vain for Mr.
Wickham among the cluster of red coats there assembled, a doubt of his being
present never occurred to her.’”
Tristan
stared reading the whole of chapter seventeen, then eighteen, which seemed to
take forever as it consisted of eight or so pages, but he didn’t buckle. He was
conscious of his drying throat as he staggered though chapter nineteen – which
wasn’t that long, thank God – and mentally cursed himself for not bringing
water. Several minutes passed by and the both of them advanced more and more
parts of the story until a rapping at the door made him pause.
Putting
down the fragile book, he went to the door, and checked his wristwatch –
breakfast time.
“I
got it.” he said to the nurse. He wasn’t familiar with her face but
nonetheless, Tristan smiled at her as the door closed shut.
He
surveyed the contents of the tray before setting it on the bed – warm soup,
chicken thigh, and a slice of bread – and was satisfied. He made a mental note
to himself, though, to really exert effort on learning how to cook, despite
having dozens more burns. It’s for a good cause, anyway, and he was becoming
fond of multi-colored bandages.
“Let’s
get to Lizzy and Mr. Darcy later, okay? You have to eat. Are you hungry?” Reeya
didn’t answer, but the look in her face spoke out a loud no. Tristan, on noticing this, prepared for the little challenge.
“You
have to eat. Being hungry is never a good thing, don’t you think?” he raised a
spoonful of soup near to her mouth, which was sealed shut.
“Come
on. Open up, Reeya.” he said gently, “I’m sure it tastes good.” Then, with
reluctance written all over her features, she gave in and ate.
Tristan’s
mood lightened more than ever, and he continued feeding her when he was caught
up by another unexpected surprise; she lightly touched his wrist and he
automatically looked up to her, but she wasn’t really looking at him.
“Is
something wrong?” he asked anxiously. Reeya didn’t answer, she only took the
spoon and fork from his fingers and set the tray on her own lap. Then she ate
her breakfast.
Tristan’s
wide eyes were on her, his heart was pounding and he was sure as hell that he’s
dreaming right now. Just how many miracles had he witnessed for the past hours?
But
he wasn’t about to complain. He was excited. He was thrilled. The smile on his
face was barely enough to show how deeply pleased he was.
Few
more minutes passed when she finally finished her meal. Tristan was still in a
trance as he carried the tray back outside, where a nurse rushed up and took it
from him. When he went back inside and shut the door, he found Reeya looking at
him a bit impatiently. A sile spread over his lips as he sat back down and read
where he left off.
Impatience
is way better than blank stares.
Part
II.
He
read to her until dusk. While at lunch, Kate brought him a bottle of water
together with Reeya’s lunch. She also gave her a warm smile before clearing
off.
This
time again, Reeya fed herself and Tristan was obliged to go back to his office
and eat a quick lunch – consisting entirely of three gulps of tea, and five
spoonfuls of apple parfait.
He
couldn’t wait to go back to her that he didn’t even fix the desk and just got
out of the room.
“‘With
no greater events than these in the Longbourn family, and otherwise diversified
by little beyond the walks to Meryton…’”
The
never-fading smile was still pasted on his face as he was reading. Tristan was
actually thinking of other things while doing the task at hand – things like
what to do once they’re done with the reading sessions, since they’re more than
halfway through Pride and Prejudice.
He
certainly didn’t want to read another book. No way.
Several
minutes passed and he paused his reading and set the book aside, “Why don’t we
take a break? My voice must’ve been very boring.” He reached out and took a
swig of water. As he put the cap back on, he noticed that she was staring at
his hands, which were covered in blue, yellow, and pink Band-Aids. He didn’t exactly
have a choice in the colors.
“I
was trying to cook my breakfast,” he grimaced at the memory, “I’m not much of a
cook, so look what I got for it.” He raised both of his palms up to her direct
line of sight and her eyes followed. She looked thoughtful, and a little bit
intrigued.
“Your
hands look funny.”
Tristan
froze. She spoke. She just spoke to him. Was it – ?
Damnation. I must be out of my
mind.
“Really?”
he asked, half-laughing, his voice raised up a notch higher than the usual, “Why
do you think so?”
She
blinked, her eyelashes casting shadows over her cheekbones. Tristan tried hard
to breathe as he still grasped for a straw of coherency. Did she just –
“They
just look like rainbows. It’s funny.” Her eyes were downcast as she said that.
Then both of them fell into silence. Her voice still rang in Tristan’s ears and
it sounded like wind chimes blowing in the warm summer breeze. He was
overwhelmed. He couldn’t even speak.
That’s
where he panicked. What should I say?
“Well,
erm. Thank you.” he said uncertainly. The words were out of his mouth and a
half-second later, he wished he could swallow them back. He cursed himself. Who
would say thank you to something like that? Now, he wished he’d said something
amusing or catchy.
Reeya
gave him no response, but that’s okay. In lack of anything more to say, he
picked up the book once again and started reading.
Tristan
wondered if he was Gandhi in the past life. Why else would these miracles
happen in the course of one day?
He
was definitely Gandhi. There’s no
other thing for it.
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