I insisted to get back to work after a full week of rest.

It took a great level of persuasion for Granny to finally let me go from bedrest.

I was going stir-crazy staying inside and doing absolutely nothing. I thought I craved the silence and having little to do for once. But it got old fast.

It was getting unhealthy how much I was looking forward to be asleep than awake.

My hand still continued to tremble. It had a mind of its own.

I did not tell a single soul, not even Ruby. I hid it well from everyone so far. I know it cannot be a good sign, but I simply just do not want to think about it at all.

Every time Ruby changed my bandages, I always looked away. I do not even have the stomach to look at the poor stitching I did. I could only trust her observation she gave back to me in between changes.

Ruby not only stayed more at home but came to work with me.

On my first day back, the little Bambi hardly let me do a single thing. Every chance of a task that was thrown at me, Ruby picked it right ahead of me.

Any of the girls who asked me a favor, she answered back with a deadly glare in her eyes. It was absolutely forbidden for anyone to come near me for work at work.

I swear I could simply just lean back and pick up smoking again. No one would care. Hell, it would still count as adding in my hours.

Granny escorted me in the back to crunch in some numbers for the month. I finished the task that left me only a few more hours to get paid to sit around and do nothing.

I stood up to my feet. No one dared blink an eye.

Tonight was not our busiest, but everyone was doing their individual task.

"I'll meet you back at the house, Granny," I said it in one breath, I did not even check if she heard me.

I untied my apron and threw it in my tote bag. I walked out without saying goodbye.

My little stalker seemed to have taken a break. My hair fell straight down to my back – uncovered.

I headed straight down to a potential shortcut I was not confident would take me home quickly. But fuck it, I can find out tonight.

The usual route to head to Granny's place by foot is around 30 minutes from walking distance. My little shortcut was stretching to an hour.

I was finally sweating from a well-needed physical activity. But I have no idea where I was.

I paused and looked around.

A flash of pain suddenly struck like lightning in my wound. I yelped and grabbed my wrist. I looked down at my hand and saw it begin to tremble again.

A seep of blood was bleeding through the bandage.

"Shit…" I muttered.

I looked around me. There was barely a non-threatening person passing by. What was left was the homeless. One eyeing me with a terrifying gleam in his eye.

The pain this time was not as painful as before. But my eyes began to well up.

I blindly took several steps back until my back pressed against a pole. I leaned half my weight against my back.

I loosened my grip on my hand. The print of my hand was marked over the bandage in blood.

How did I get here?

Tears dripped down my cold cheeks. My mind was shaken out of its dull state like an old radio kicked back to life.

Every little stored memory of worry I locked with a key was escaping one by one.

A large piece from that storage began to play out.

My heartbeat was beating like a drum. I forgot how to breathe properly. I was gulping for air as more tears fell down my eyes.

My mind brought me back to the raw moment of a younger me – happy with a swollen belly. Neal held me while our newborn Henry rested on my lap.

Neal's face is slightly blurred. I had avoided looking at any of his pictures. His appearance to be me now is nothing but a mystery.

He folded his arms closer to my body as I cooed our little Henry. His familiar lips planted on the crown of my head.

"You did this for us. Thank you, thank you, Emma," his whisper echoed aloud.

Our happy reunion slowly faded to dust as the room darkened into pitch black.

A cold air blew by at an intense speed. I am transformed on the rooftop of a building. Exactly the rooftop of Grumpy's apartment.

I am in my red ceremony dress. My feet are a centimeter off the ledge. One misstep and I will fall.

The cry of my baby son is echoing behind me. But I cannot turn around.

I can feel several hands reach behind me and touch me. Some are grabbing my arms. Others going after the skirt of my dress. Each grip is tight to stop me from falling.

I do not know how to act. I am still so frozen in place. Henry's cries grow louder and more heartbreaking – he needs me.

I cannot stop my body. But what I can do, what this force cannot stop me is my voice.

I scream at the top of my lungs, squeezing my eyes shut.

My entire body is shaken. Until I open my eyes again.

My vision settles on Killian's face, looking at me with instant relief. He picks me off the ground and collects me off the street.

I feel so cold and numb. I do not know what to say or do. Just the warmth of his body gave me the ultimate comfort. I leaned my head heavily on his shoulder.

"Stay with me, Emma. Stay with me," he begged.

My head is as light as the clouds. I close my eyes again. The last of my vision is seeing Killian bring me inside his car.


I was never accustomed to naps. No matter how tired I was, I always broke out of my short sleep cycle for close to an hour.

This kind of short rest was unlike all others.

I slowly opened my eyes. The bed was too comfortable to truly be my own bed. My wound no longer hurt but the area felt raw as if it had undergone another traumatic stitching.

I tried to get off this stranger's bed, but a hand gestured me back to lying down. I looked up to see Killian.

"W-Where am I?" I asked.

"My place."

I examined both my wrists. No hospital bracelet. But my wound is repatched with fresh bandages.

"How did this happen? You need to tell me which hospital you took me to. And where's my bag – "

He sat himself down. This bed – harvested by the softest of heaven's clouds – did not even dip by his weight. He tucked his silk sheets up to my chest.

"I did not take you to a hospital. I have a good friend in the field who treated you here. I even reached out to your friend to assure her you are fine. You did lose quite a bit of blood. So please rest before you do anything else."

I shook my head. I forced myself to sit up. I looked around me to search for my clothes. I padded down my chest, relieved to still be dressed, but the dried blood stains were prominent across my shirt.

One of his hands took my shoulder. He leaned closer to meet my eyes.

"It's 3 in the morning right now, Emma. You've been under for a while when I found you. Your friends back home are well-informed of your being. I will personally send you home. But you must rest a little more and eat something. Can we agree on this?"

Runaway Ruby would be sleeping on a stranger's couch after finishing a bottle of vodka for dinner. But work-mode Ruby would have tucked Henry to bed and messaged Killian every hour to keep track if I was alive. Henry is definitely in good hands.

I slowly nodded. And caved into this wonderful cloud of a bed.

Killian leaves the room for a moment. Soon returns with a tray of food. The menu for tonight is a bowl of bone broth and a small plate of pills next to a tall glass of water.

He sat back down in the same spot. He folded one of his legs to rest the tray as a table. He was so close to me this time. His knee pressed on my thigh.

He held the bowl and took a spoonful. The steam lifted up to our faces. He held the first spoonful up to my lips.

"I can do it," I insisted.

I reached over to collect the bowl. But he refused, holding the spoon close to my lips.

"You are not allowed to hold more than 5 pounds of weight for the next two weeks. Doctor's orders."

"The bowl couldn't weigh close to that."

He shook his head, holding firm to his decision.

I gave in and took the spoonful.

Back and forth we played this game of not burning my mouth as I left my fate to his hands.

I could only finish half of the serving. My stomach was full but warm with such comfort.

I was no stranger to being forced to bed and having everyone become my nurse overnight. But I have never had such a good rest. My eyelids were already growing heavy.

I cannot stay here. It is out of the question. But that would mean never knowing what it would be like to sleep on this bed of clouds ever again.

I forced my neck to sit straight, resisting the urge to lean back and fall back to sleep.

Killian dabbed the corners of my lips with a napkin. I turned away in an instant and took the napkin with me.

My eyes dropped low to the sea of silk draped over my body. The material is too soft to be real.

"How did you find me?"

I could not look at him again.

His knee brushed against my thigh as he shifted his position. I pressed my back against the headboard of the bed, folding my legs close to my chest.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you."

My hands folded together, intertwining each finger. The air in my lungs felt short in supply.

I could not have possibly heard him right.

"So, you stalked me?" I asked.

"Not exactly. Milah is my second pair of eyes and ears. She is quick to take whatever it takes to learn every detail of a person of interest. But she crossed her line of getting involved outside of work, especially for people she suspects is a huge distraction."

That bitch.

"I want to apologize beforehand that she discovered very personal details about you and exposed them to me. But I – "

"What specific details stood out?" I interrupted.

I no longer felt nervous anymore. Closer to numb.

I am no stranger to being cornered by my past, especially falling under immediate judgment by the mistress of the devil herself.

I challenged him with my gaze. Every ounce of gratitude I woke up with was light like air.

"Which one? My time in prison? My psycho landlord I put up with because there are only so many places an inmate can live?"

I expected shame to appear right at that moment. But I saw none.

He moved closer to be this time. I almost lost my cool when I can feel the warmth of his body through his miracle silk sheets.

"It was wrong of her to intervene into your life. But I still wanted to see you again. But I am no different for following you this time. I am deeply sorry for my staff and my own behavior. But after what happened to you, I'm glad I did if it meant to save you."

This entire time I knew my hunch was right. It was no coincidence the same car kept following me wherever I went. First at my job, then my way back to my own home.

"I have no space for anyone than me and my son – I'm surprise me having a kid part didn't stop you. You know already from your overpaid detective my situation. No man has ever been in my life since my kid was two. And, honestly, I don't plan to change that."

One of his hands is covered in a single black leather glove. I watched him reach over to remove it.

"I want to show you something."

He slowly unbuttoned the single-button clasp across his wrist. I watched him pull the rest off in a slower reveal.

"The press has been wanting to take footage of this. I always have to careful, especially in public. But eye for an eye," he continued.

The glove was completely off. His hand was finally exposed. Except, it was a robotic hand down to the wrist.

I have never seen a robotic hand in person. The shape from the fingers to the palm was exact to a person's. I almost jumped how the fingers folded on its own, rotating slightly just as my own wrist can do.

I tried not to stare for too long. I would be no different to every nosy reporter wanting to look so closely.

"Milah's background was far from appropriate for her to earn the position she is now. Her most experience is running a pawn shop with her ex. But she came to me after much stalking of every detail about me when I started my company. I hired her of nothing to rely on but a hunch she was fit for the job.

"But she had unresolved matters in her personal life. Her ex misunderstood my relationship with her and went as far to chop off my own hand. She was forever in my debt when he was sent to prison. And still with that same hunch, I let her stay."

The gray steel fingers curled into a ball, meeting close to its palm. He lowered it down to the bed.

There was still not an ounce of shame written on his face. But his confidence was dipped. Without his glove, his face crumbled. I could hardly recognize this man as the same person I met in the middle of the street after running like a maniac after a thief.

"No matter which version I wear, I was never satisfied. The glove only helps a little. A mere mask. My reasons of avoiding all relationship are no different to yours, Emma. I am a man with no choice of privacy."

In immediate response, my hand reached for his mechanical hand.

He was startled, flinching as if he can feel my hand over his.

Tears pooled my eyes.

"We both are not exactly the perfect candidate to start any kind of connection. But we also don't have much to hide anymore, at least between us," he continued.

"You don't take 'no' very well, do you?"

"Not when I see something more you may underestimate at first."

The last man who I was beyond confident to be truthful was the father of my child. After he left, there was no other man I ever thought to believe could be ever truthful.

No man has ever treated me to believe are kind and reliable. My son is my last hope for the future to experience a trustworthy man who will not abandon, especially go against his word.

The coldness of his steel hand did not bother me.

But perhaps my son does not have to be the only one.

"My son always comes first. I can never compromise my priorities with him."

He dried my tears across my cheek with the crook of his finger.

"No objection here," he said.

A slight smirk curved in the corner of his lips. I can almost remember exactly how that look upset me.

But now, it was growing on me.

"What happens now?" I asked.n

"Now, you are going to rest a little more. And I will send you back home. And one day, when you find yourself available, we can start over to phase 1. A date."

His hand reaches for his pocket, revealing a business card. He placed it between my fingers.

"And this?" I eyed at the card.

"I will wait for that day."

He reached his hand again to dry my eyes. But I wanted more. I reached for him in open arms and embraced him.

On cue, he accepted me. I went as far to use both my hands to stroke my back.

The tears continued to fall. I squeezed my eyes shut to stop them.

All the flashbacks were waving in all together again.

My own son risked his own life to rescue mine. I hardly can get by to build a better life for us, let alone a safe one. And this hamster stuck in the wheel of a career is so constant, it takes away my reasons to even bother to sleep if I am just going to wake up in the same job, same place, same angry customers every day.

At home, I was always the part-time mother getting a small glimpse of my son awake until I returned to find him asleep. Outside of these walls, I am a maid to clean your shit and a waitress to feed you something you can easily make at home.

I have never been apart from these identities. But right now I feel like none of those parts. I feel like a woman again.