“Awareness came to her, slowly, not rushed, not an assault but gentle, like a mother's caress, the first sensation to come was sound; she heard the cars moving, the commotion of the world, the quiet of her workshop a stark contrast to the world around her, then her eyes opened, the sunlight awakening her mind, the events of the previous night came back to her as the world sharpened and she jolted awake, to check on her impromptu patient She looked at him, the sunlight seemed to make him more perfect, if that was even possible, she examined him, His face; soft features and a sharp jawline, his body: perfectly toned and a six pack that made him the standard of beauty, overall he was mesmerizing. "Are you done staring" the sound of a male voice echoed in her ears as she was taken out of her thoughts by the man who she thought was asleep a moment ago, unbeknownst to her, was quietly observing her”

“Heat flooded her cheeks before she could stop it, the sudden rush of embarrassment sharp and unwelcome as she straightened away from him. "I was checking your bandages," she said, the lie thin as oil on water, and she watched the corner of his mouth twitch in a way that suggested he knew exactly how long she'd been staring at his chest instead. She grabbed for the steel rod she'd used as a splint, needing her hands to do something honest — work, not worship — and told herself that the way he tracked her movement, quiet and unblinking, meant nothing more than a patient watching his nurse.”

“"I'm Alex, thank you for helping me, not many would do what you just did and for that I'm grateful, what's your name, I'd be stupid not to get to know a stunning lady such as yourself" Alex, as he had called himself, said to Sonia, His voice approving her assumption that this man was a Greek god in disguise, "for a man to be so perfect, is it possible" she thought internally, "ahem" Alex cleared his throat, seemingly experienced in situations like this, this breaks her line of though and she answers, "Sonia, my name is Sonia, But my friends call me Sona, but it's been a while since anyone has called me a friend." "Well Sona, it's very nice to meet you, I'd like to be your friend" Alex said, cutting through Sonia's defenses as she felt something she hadn't felt in a while but she tossed the feeling aside and thought of something else, "hold still, I need to remove the bandages and check your injuries"”

“Her hands hovered over the bandages, and she became acutely aware of the space between her fingers and his skin — a hair's breadth of charged air that felt wider than the whole workshop. "Right," she said, more to herself than to him, and pressed her fingers to the edge of the tape. The warmth of him reached her through the gauze, steady and alive, and she peeled the first strip back with a slowness that had nothing to do with caution and everything to do with the fact that he was watching her — not the wound, not her hands, but *her face* — with an attention that made her feel unmade. She kept her eyes fixed on the work, on the dried blood that had sealed the fabric to his skin, because looking up meant meeting that gaze and she wasn't ready to know what she'd find there. The last layer of gauze came away with a soft tug, and she saw the wound beneath — not a gash, not a bruise, but a lattice of faded silver lines, like scars that had healed years ago instead of hours, and her breath caught in her throat. "That's not possible," she whispered, her thumb tracing unconsciously along one of the marks before she realized what she was doing.”

“Alex grabs her hand; not forceful, but measured and gentle in a tired, wary way, like a wounded animal whining, you shouldn't have seen that”

“His hand slid away from hers, not snatched but withdrawn — a slow retreat that felt more deliberate than any quick pull could have managed. "You shouldn't have seen that," he said again, quieter this time, and the words landed differently now — not a warning, but a confession. She watched him look at the silver-lattice wound as if it belonged to someone else, his jaw working around something he wasn't saying, and when he spoke again his voice was flat in a way that didn't match the flicker in his eyes. "I should go." He didn't move. His body stayed exactly where it was, surrendered to the workbench and the morning light, and the contradiction sat between them like a held breath — the words saying *leave*, the stillness saying *stay*. Sonia's hand hovered in the air where his arm had been, the ghost of his warmth still pressed against her palm, and she realized she didn't know which version of him she wanted to believe more.”