Odette's POV
"At least… let me help you." Mara's voice cracked, trembling with something between fear and desperation. "I know you said you don't like being helped. Just—please let me help you, Madam."
My blind eyes blinked once, twice, as if I could process her words better that way. My lips pressed together. Stubbornness flared immediately. I wanted to refuse, to say no, I can do it myself, but my arms already trembled from the effort of scrubbing and every fresh sting of soap on my cuts reminded me how weak I was.
I hated this. I hated feeling fragile. But Mara's voice broke through the cracks I tried to keep sealed.
Finally, I let out a breath. "Fine," I whispered, the word bitter on my tongue. "If it'll stop you from crying at me, then help."
I heard her sharp inhale, like relief had just punched through her chest. "Thank you, Madam," she said quickly, almost stumbling over the words.