Episode 4

The Argantara family's personal physician, a middle-aged man named Doctor Samuel, entered with cautious steps. He carried a medical bag, his face calm but full of caution like someone who had long known how sensitive this particular patient was.

"Good morning, Mr. Reghan," he greeted softly. "I heard you slipped in the bathroom last night."

Reghan glanced at him, expressionless. "I'm fine."

However, his tone was flat and clearly tired. Doctor Samuel pulled up a chair, sitting in front of him.

"I still have to check. Your injury must not relapse."

The examination took place in silence. Only the sound of the stethoscope and Reghan's small sighs of pain as the doctor pressed on his lower back, which had been injured before, could be heard.

"Still feel pain in the spine?" Doctor Samuel asked carefully.

Reghan stared blankly out the window. "Sometimes... especially when sitting for too long."

Then he added softly, "And when trying to remember things I should forget."

The doctor looked at him for a moment.

"Do you still have nightmares often?"

"Every night." His answer was calm, but there was a dark shadow in his eyes.

"The accident... didn't just stop my legs from walking, Doc. But it also made my mind stop believing that I could still be... a whole man."

Silence fell for a moment, the clock ticking softly between them. Doctor Samuel looked down, writing something in a small book.

"Sir, I once said... it's not you that's broken. It's just your self-confidence that's trapped behind that trauma. The body's reaction that comes from warmth or closeness... that's a sign that your nervous system is actually still working."

Reghan snorted softly, looking at his own hands. "This morning..." he said softly, almost as if talking to himself, "When she helped me get dressed... there was something I... felt. I thought I was dead from that part, but it turns out..."

He stopped speaking, looking down sharply. "I hate it, I hate that fact."

Doctor Samuel sighed deeply. "It's not your body that needs healing, Mr. Reghan. It's your heart, the anger and shame that are paralyzing everything."

Behind the slightly open door, Arum stood transfixed. She didn't intend to listen, but her steps stopped as soon as she heard Reghan's voice trembling between his sentences. Her eyes slowly heated up, staring at the cold marble floor.

So, behind his cold attitude, behind the never-ending anger, Reghan was actually at war with himself with fear, shame, and the belief that he no longer deserved to be loved by anyone.

"Trauma like that doesn't disappear in a day, Sir," Doctor Samuel continued softly.

"But with time, and with someone patient by your side, the wound can heal."

Reghan laughed shortly, bitterly. "Patient? I can't even look at her without feeling belittled." The chair creaked as the doctor stood up.

"Maybe she's not the person you want to have," he said slowly, "but she could be the person destined to heal you."

There was no reply, only a long silence. Arum, who was still outside, bit her lip tightly. Her heart was tight, not because of pity but because for the first time, she understood why Reghan rejected gentleness. Because every touch for him was not affection, but a reminder of loss and destruction.

She retreated slowly, not wanting Reghan to know she had heard. But in her chest, a small intention grew. If she had to go through this loveless marriage, then let her go through it in another way—becoming someone who, even without words, could heal those wounds slowly.

The morning sky looked gray, clouds piled low as if holding the sun back from penetrating the large yard of the Argantara family's house.

In the back garden, Arum sat on a slightly damp stone bench, among rows of white roses that were beginning to wilt. Her hands wrung her dress in her lap—cold, damp, and trembling. She had just heard something she shouldn't have known.

About Reghan, about a wound deeper than just a body that couldn't stand.

"So that's the reason," she murmured softly. Her voice was almost drowned out by the rustling wind.

"Not because he hates me... but because he hates himself."

Arum closed her eyes for a moment, as far as she could remember, since the first day she stepped into that house, every gaze felt like a test.

Maya who always spoke in a condescending tone, Alena who always smiled coldly every time her name was mentioned, the servants who whispered when she passed, and Reghan her own husband who treated her as if she were just an unwanted shadow. But this morning, for the first time, the hatred felt different.

The soft footsteps of someone were heard behind her. Arum turned around, finding Oma Helena, the old woman who still stood tall with her silver cane, looking at her from a few steps away.

"Have you been sitting here long?" Oma asked softly.

Arum stood up quickly, bowing politely. "Sorry, Oma, I just wanted to get some fresh air... but I saw the plants were wilting,"

Oma Helena nodded, approaching slowly. "It's been a long time since those plants were taken care of, since Reghan stopped caring about his life. The air in this house does feel heavy if you're not used to it."

She stopped right in front of Arum, looking straight into her eyes. "I know, there are many things here that you don't understand yet, child. But never let people's whispers make you falter. You've become part of this family, no matter what happens."

Those words felt warm, but also like a warning. Arum nodded slowly.

"I understand, Oma."

Oma patted the back of her hand lightly. "I believe you will bring change to this house." Then, with a deep gaze, she added, "Including for my stubborn grandson."

Arum bowed, she wanted to ask many things about Reghan, about this family's past, about the hatred that seemed layered in every corner of the house but she held back. All she needed now was time. After Oma left, Arum sat down again.

From a distance, she saw Alena walking slowly on the edge of the garden, stopping near the gazebo. A man followed her a few seconds later—Elion, Reghan's stepbrother, with a faint smile and an overly familiar attitude.

Arum frowned slightly. She knew Elion was Alena's fiance, but the gaze she saw was not the gaze of a faithful fiance but of two people who were hiding something else. She turned away, choosing not to pay attention. She was already too tired this morning.

But someone's footsteps behind her made her tense again. The voice was deep, heavy, and familiar. The servant left him in front of the side door of the house leading to the garden.

"Why are you here?"

Reghan stopped near the glass door, wearing a loose shirt and sitting in his wheelchair, his gaze sharp but not as sharp as usual.

Arum stood up slowly. "I just wanted to get some air, Sir."

"And hear more secrets that are none of your business?"

That cynical tone made Arum's chest tighten. She looked down, swallowing hard.

"I didn't mean to listen, Sir. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Reghan stared at her for a long time, before finally sighing heavily.

"Maybe I'll never be 'okay', Arum. So stop trying to fix it."

He turned his wheelchair, about to leave, but before entering the house, he added without turning around,

"And one more thing... never look at me with that pitying look. I don't need pity from anyone."

Arum gripped the side of her dress tightly, holding back the pain in her chest. She looked at Reghan's retreating back, then whispered almost inaudibly,

"Not pity, Sir... just curiosity, why someone so broken still tries to refuse to be healed."

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