Chapter 3 – "Can You Make It Stop Hurting?"

It became routine.

Every afternoon at exactly four o'clock, a black car rolled through the gates of the Hawthorne estate.

Evelyn always knew when it arrived.

Not because she heard the engine.

Not because the servants announced him.

She simply... knew.

She would quietly close her book, set her rabbit plush beside her, and walk toward the front hall.

The staff had begun to smile whenever they saw it.

"Miss Evelyn is waiting again."

"She only waits like that for Mr. Ashford."

Damien stepped inside, removing his gloves.

Before the butler could greet him, he saw her.

She stood at the end of the hallway in her pale blue dress, her hands clasped together.

The moment their eyes met, the anxious tension in her shoulders eased.

His expression softened in the way that happened only around her.

"Hello, Evelyn."

"...Hello."

She took a few careful steps toward him.

"I'm glad you came."

"So am I."

She looked down at the small paper bag he carried.

"...For me?"

"It depends."

Her eyes widened.

"...On what?"

"Whether you'll help me eat the cookies."

She thought very seriously.

"...I can do that."

He smiled.

"I had a feeling you could."

Weeks passed.

The distance between them slowly disappeared.

She still disliked strangers.

If new visitors entered the room, she instinctively moved behind Damien's shoulder.

He never teased her.

Never forced introductions.

Instead, he simply stood where she chose to stand, letting her decide when she felt ready.

One afternoon, a guest reached out to shake her hand.

Evelyn froze.

Before panic could rise, Damien quietly said,

"She's more comfortable waving."

The guest smiled kindly and waved instead.

Evelyn gave the tiniest wave back.

Afterward, she looked up at Damien.

"...Thank you."

"What for?"

"You knew."

"I'll always pay attention."

That evening they walked through the greenhouse.

Sunlight filtered through the glass ceiling, warming the rows of flowers.

Evelyn stopped in front of a white lily.

"It's pretty."

"It is."

She leaned a little closer.

Her sleeve brushed the edge of a wooden planter.

"Ow..."

It wasn't a hard bump.

To anyone else, it might have barely registered.

But her body processed pain differently.

She immediately drew her arm back, eyes filling with tears.

Damien was beside her before she could say another word.

"What happened?"

"I..."

She swallowed.

"It hurts."

"May I see?"

She nodded.

He gently rolled back the sleeve of her cardigan.

A faint pink mark was already appearing.

His brows drew together.

"So that's where you bumped it."

She nodded again, her lower lip trembling.

For a moment she simply looked at him with wide, watery eyes.

Then, in a tiny voice that almost broke his heart, she whispered,

"...Can you make it stop hurting?"

The question was so trusting...

So innocent...

That it stole every bit of breath from his lungs.

He knew he couldn't simply make pain disappear.

But he could help.

"I'll try."

His answer came softly.

He led her to a nearby bench.

From the small first-aid pouch he had quietly started carrying whenever he visited, he took out a cool gel pack wrapped in a clean cloth.

"I remembered the doctor said cool compresses sometimes help."

She watched every movement.

"So..."

He held it up.

"May I?"

She immediately held out her arm.

He rested the cool cloth gently over the sore spot.

"Too cold?"

She shook her head.

"...Nice."

"Tell me if it's uncomfortable."

"I will."

Neither of them noticed that Evelyn's parents had paused outside the greenhouse.

Her mother whispered through misty eyes,

"She asked him for help."

Her father nodded.

"She trusts him."

Several minutes later...

"The pain?"

Damien asked.

She considered it carefully.

"...Smaller."

"I'm glad."

She smiled.

"You always make it smaller."

He looked at her in quiet surprise.

"I don't think I do."

"You do."

"How?"

She tilted her head.

"When you're here..."

She searched for the words.

"...I'm not scared of it anymore."

His heart tightened.

It wasn't that he erased her pain.

He simply made it less lonely.

Over the next few weeks, it became something everyone noticed.

If Evelyn bumped her knee, her first words were,

"Where's Damien?"

If a headache started,

"Can Damien come?"

If a loud noise frightened her,

She instinctively looked around the room for him.

Not because she believed he possessed magic.

But because his calm voice slowed her breathing.

His steady presence reminded her that she was safe.

One rainy afternoon, thunder rolled across the sky.

The sudden crack startled Evelyn.

She flinched, covering her ears.

At that exact moment, Damien walked through the front door.

Without saying a word, she hurried toward him.

Not running.

She disliked running.

But moving as quickly as she comfortably could.

She stopped in front of him.

Rainwater still clung to his coat.

"...You're wet."

"I know."

She looked worried.

"You'll get cold."

"I'll change in a minute."

Instead of answering, she reached into her cardigan pocket and carefully offered him a neatly folded handkerchief.

"For you."

He blinked.

"You've been carrying this?"

She nodded.

"...In case."

His chest warmed.

Everyone always expected him to protect others.

Very few remembered that he, too, could be cared for.

He accepted it with a gentle smile.

"Thank you."

That evening, while reading together in the library, Evelyn rested her head lightly against his shoulder.

Neither of them spoke.

After a long while she murmured,

"Does it bother you?"

"What?"

"That I always look for you."

He turned a page before answering.

"No."

"...Never?"

"Never."

"Why?"

"Because if you're searching for me..."

He closed the book and looked at her with quiet affection.

"...it means you've found a place where you feel safe."

She smiled—a small, peaceful smile.

Then, almost sleepily, she whispered,

"I have."

Outside, the rain continued to fall against the windows.

Inside, wrapped in silence and warmth, Damien realized something he had never admitted to anyone.

He had once believed his purpose was to build an empire.

Now...

If he could simply be the person Evelyn searched for whenever the world became too loud or too painful...

That felt like the greatest honor of all.

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