The sound of rushing water echoed softly from the bathroom. Kimberly sat waiting, sipping the last bit of her iced tea when Roy stepped out. Her breath caught in her throat. Blood dripped from his right hand, bright red against his tanned skin. He looked distant—haunted even—as if the world around him had vanished.
"Roy!" she gasped, jumping to her feet and rushing toward him. Her heart thudded wildly at the sight of the blood trailing down his arm. "What happened to you?"
"I… I—" he stammered, trying to find his words, but his voice came out low and uneven.
"Don't move." Kimberly's tone was firm yet trembling. She guided him to a nearby bench and made him sit. "Stay right here, I'll be back." Without waiting for his reply, she hurried to the car to get the first aid kit, her heels clicking rapidly against the stone path.
When she returned, Roy hadn't moved an inch. His hand was still bleeding, his expression unreadable, jaw tight.
"Give me your hand," she said softly.
"I'm fine," he muttered, avoiding her gaze.
Before he could finish, she gently took his injured hand and laid it across her lap. She opened the kit and began cleaning the wound with tender care. He winced slightly at the sting of the antiseptic. Her fingers were soft against his skin—too soft for someone who lived surrounded by pain and cold responsibility.
He watched her silently, the closeness between them thickening the air. Her concentration, the way her brows furrowed slightly as she bandaged him—it stirred something inside him he couldn't control. His heartbeat grew erratic, his palms sweaty despite the cool evening breeze.
"Kimb…" His voice was low, barely above a whisper.
"Yes?" she said without looking up.
"What do you feel for me?"
Her hands froze mid-motion. She blinked, her mind blank for a moment. That question came from nowhere, sharp and heavy.
"What?"
"I said… what do you feel for me?" His tone was steady now, but his eyes held turmoil.
Kimberly's lips parted, but no words came out. She wasn't prepared for this—this moment that suddenly felt too intimate, too dangerous.
"Do you feel pity for me?" he continued, his eyes fixed on hers.
"Roy…" she whispered, his name trembling on her tongue.
"You keep calling my name like that," he said with a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You're sending me signals you don't understand."
"Roy, I don't know," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "I don't know what I feel."
He chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. "Well, that's fine. You can't fall for a common bodyguard and driver like me."
"Roy…"
"Don't." He stood up abruptly, looking away. "You're marrying Kelvin. You belong to a world that doesn't know people like me exist."
She rose to her feet too, her chest tight. "Roy, that's not fair. You think I care about that?"
He looked at her then, eyes fierce with unspoken emotions. "If I wasn't your bodyguard… if I was someone else… would you still look at me the same way?"
Her throat tightened. She didn't know the answer—at least not one that wouldn't break her heart.
"I don't know," she said again, softly.
"Right." He exhaled deeply. "Then we should get going. You have a dinner with your fiancé tonight. You shouldn't be looking stressed."
"No, I'm not stressed—Roy, please, stop it."
"Let's go, Kimberly," he said flatly, walking toward the car.
She sighed, defeated. "Fine, let's go."
The drive back was silent, only the soft hum of the engine filling the space. Kimberly's thoughts were in chaos. Roy's question replayed over and over in her head, like a haunting melody. She wanted to hate him for stirring her feelings, but instead, she found herself longing to understand what was happening between them.
By evening, Kimberly stood before her mirror, dressed in a stunning backless black gown that hugged her figure perfectly. The silver heels added elegance, and her diamond earrings sparkled with every movement. She applied a touch of lip gloss, brushed her hair back into a sleek ponytail, and took a deep breath. Tonight, she would face the people who wanted to control her life.
When she stepped out, Roy was waiting by the car. His eyes widened slightly, his usual composed demeanor faltering. She was breathtaking.
"You… you look beautiful," he said softly.
A faint blush crept up her cheeks. "Thank you."
He reached for her hand and pressed a gentle kiss on it. "You're welcome, beautiful."
Their eyes met briefly—just long enough to make her heartbeat quicken again. Then he opened the door, and she stepped into the car.
The drive to her father's mansion felt heavier than before. Kimberly leaned against the window, watching the city lights blur past. Her chest ached—not just from dread about the dinner, but from the confusing storm Roy had unleashed inside her.
When they arrived, she paused at the entrance, inhaling deeply as though preparing for battle.
Inside, the dining room gleamed with golden lights and expensive cutlery. Her father sat at the head of the table, Kelvin and his father seated beside him. Their laughter stopped as she entered.
"Hi, Dad," she greeted softly.
Kelvin's father smiled warmly. "Ah, the lovely bride-to-be."
Kelvin stood, walking toward her with a grin. "Hey, beautiful." He leaned in, trying to peck her cheek, but she turned away. His lips brushed the air awkwardly.
Unbothered, he pulled out a chair for her. She sat down stiffly.
"Hi, sir," she greeted Kelvin's father politely.
"Sir?" her father repeated sharply.
"Ah, don't mind that, Charles," Kelvin's father chuckled. "She'll soon get used to calling me 'father'."
Kimberly rolled her eyes slightly but kept quiet.
"Kimberly, dear," her father began, "before you came in, we were discussing your wedding with Kelvin. I know you're excited and ready."
Her head snapped toward him. "What if I'm not, Dad?"
The room fell silent. Kelvin's father frowned. Her father's glare was sharp enough to cut glass.
"Don't mind her," her father said quickly with a forced laugh. "She's just overwhelmed, right Kimberly?"
Her father's eyes warned her to play along. Kimberly swallowed hard. "Yes, Dad," she muttered.
"Good girl," he said, smiling proudly as if she'd agreed to her own sentencing.
As the dinner continued, conversation flowed around her, but she barely heard a word. Every laugh, every toast felt like a dagger. She smiled when her father looked her way, but her mind was far away—on freedom, on Roy's words, on the life she wished she had.
Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. "Excuse me, I need to use the ladies," she said and stood up.
She walked out to the balcony, the cool air kissing her exposed back. She gripped the railing and stared into the night sky, trying to calm the storm within her.
A hand touched her shoulder suddenly, and she flinched.
"Relax, it's just me," Kelvin said, stepping closer.
Kimberly moved slightly away from his touch. "I just came out to have some breathing space. I'm not running away."
"Kimberly, I'm sorry for last night," he said quickly.
"Sorry?" she turned to face him, anger flashing in her eyes. "Sorry is not enough, Kelvin. You tried to rape me."
"No, no, I'd never— I was drunk!"
"You were stupid," she snapped. "I hate all of this."
"I love you, Kimberly," he said desperately.
She laughed bitterly. "Is this your definition of love? Forcing someone to marry you? Hurting them? Is that love to you?"
"I can't call off the wedding," he said quietly, eyes dark with frustration.
"Of course, you can, Kelvin. You just won't, because you're selfish."
He smiled faintly, a chilling smirk. "Yeah, I'm selfish. I can't let another man have all this." His hand reached toward her shoulder again, but she yanked it off violently.
"You disgust me," she hissed.
He leaned closer, his voice low, almost threatening. "Don't worry, Kimberly. You'll learn to love me. You don't have a choice."
She stepped closer, her eyes burning with fury. "I hate you, Kelvin. I hate you. And there's nothing you can ever do or say that will make me love you. Yes, my father might force me to marry you, but he can't force me to love you. Even if a knife were placed on my neck, I'd never fall for a sick bastard like you."
Her face was inches from his, trembling with rage. Kelvin simply nodded, hands tucked into his pockets, a sinister calm spreading across his face.
"We shall see about that," he said softly, his lips curling into a smirk. "Dear wifey."
Then he turned and walked away, leaving Kimberly standing there, her chest heaving, tears of anger welling in her eyes.
She clutched the railing tightly, whispering to herself, "I'll never let them cage me. Never."
But deep down, she knew—her battle was only just beginning.