Chapter 79: Simply Sleeping
"So... Do you need to cut her hair?" Theo’s voice was low but tense, his arms crossed as he stood facing the doctor.
"Not entirely, Mr. Kingsley." The doctor looked uneasy, hands moving in a small wave as if to calm him. "Only around the cut. It’s not deep, but it still requires stitches."
Theo’s jaw flexed. "But she loves her hair..." The words slipped out almost under his breath, more to himself than to anyone else. His mind flicked back to things he’d read about her before, a little, almost insignificant details most people would forget. But not him.
He looked up again, his gaze hardening on the doctor. "Is there any other option?" His tone carried the weight of someone demanding an answer, as if the wrong one would be a personal offense.
The doctor hesitated, glancing toward the closed treatment room door as if weighing whether to be honest or careful. "We can try to work around it... but it will take longer, and she’ll need to stay completely still. Even the smallest movement could make the wound worse."
Theo’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Then make her still."
The doctor blinked, caught between confusion and the heavy edge in Theo’s tone. "We’ll do our best, Mr. Kingsley, but—"
"No ’but.’" His voice was quiet, but the steel in it left no room for negotiation. "You said it’s not deep. Then there’s no reason to take more than necessary."
The doctor exhaled slowly, nodding. "Understood."
Theo turned his gaze toward the door again, but this time his chest tightened so sharply it almost stole his breath. For a second, it felt like the ground had tilted beneath him.
He had walked in just in time to see her, pale and limp, blood pooling near her temple and his heart had nearly dropped out of his chest.
Panic had flared so fast it burned through his usual control. He’d wanted to shove everyone aside, scoop her up, and demand they fix her now, no matter what it took.
Even now, the image wouldn’t leave him. It sat heavy in his mind, making it impossible to shake the thought that he had been a step too late.
"Ah..." The sound escaped him before he could stop it, a rough sigh that carried more weight than he intended. ’Is this... what liking someone feels like?’
She was moved to a VIP room not long after, the crisp white sheets and soft lighting doing little to ease the tight knot in Theo’s chest. She lay still, her face pale against the pillow, the faint bandage near her temple the only visible sign of the fall.
Theo stood at the foot of the bed, his voice sharper than he intended. "Why is she still unconscious?"
The doctor glanced at the monitor, then back at him. "Her body is in a state of post-traumatic response. The fever and the blow to her head likely triggered a brief loss of consciousness. We’ve sedated her lightly to keep her stable while the swelling subsides."
Theo’s brows furrowed. "Post-traumatic response?"
"In simple terms, Mr. Kingsley... her body is forcing her to rest so it can heal. It’s not uncommon, and her vitals are steady. But she needs time."
"Wait... I am a bit dumb about these medical things... So because of the fall, she is now having a post traumatic response?" Theo frowned.
The doctor straightened his posture. "Hmm... partly, yes. But I believe Miss Sinclair is simply sleeping... her body taking the rest it needs. I’m sorry, Mr. Kingsley, but may I ask you something?"
"What is it?" Theo’s eyes flicked back to Daisy.
"Has she been under a lot of stress lately?"
Theo’s gaze stayed on her, watching the slow, almost reluctant rise and fall of her chest. "Stress?" he echoed, his voice low and tight.
The doctor nodded. "It’s possible her immune system has been weakened for some time. Fever, fatigue, fainting... these can happen more easily when the body is worn down. The head injury was just the trigger, not the root cause."
A heavy weight settled in Theo’s chest. He thought back over the past days, her family’s demands, his own presence in her life. She hadn’t shown it, but maybe all of it had been pressing down on her more than she let on.
"Hm..." He gave a faint nod, his voice losing its usual steadiness. "What should I do then?" He turned slightly toward the doctor, as if the answer might give him something to hold on to.
The doctor glanced at Daisy, then back at Theo. "For now, let her rest. Keep her warm, make sure she’s hydrated when she wakes. No sudden movements, no emotional strain. Her body will tell us when it’s ready."
Theo’s hands tightened into fists at his sides. ’Rest... Hydrate... Wait...’ It sounded simple, but the thought of just standing by while she lay there, so still, gnawed at him.
"And... Mr. Kingsley," the doctor added, his tone softer, "stress doesn’t just come from the outside. Sometimes it’s from the people closest to her. She needs support, not pressure."
Theo’s throat worked, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his eyes back to Daisy, her hair spilling over the pillow, her face pale against the crisp sheets.
It hit him harder than he expected. Did my feelings put that much pressure on you?
The thought settled like ice in his stomach. He’d been so focused on closing the distance between them, on making her see him, that he hadn’t stopped to think if he was only adding to the weight she already carried.
His fingers twitched at his side, the urge to reach for her almost unbearable. But instead, he stayed still, afraid that even the smallest touch might disturb the fragile peace she’d found in sleep.
"Noted, doctor. Thank you," he said quietly, his voice stripped of its usual firmness.
The doctor gave a small nod and left, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving Theo alone in the soft hum of the machines. For a long moment, he just stood there, watching her, his chest tightening with something he couldn’t name, "I’m sorry."