11
~Lisa's POV
I opened my eyes slowly, blinking against the soft light above me. The ceiling was unfamiliar, plain, white, and too bright. For a moment, I didn't know where I was. My body felt heavy, like it had been tied down, and my throat was dry like sandpaper. I tried to move my head, and a dull ache throbbed at the back of my skull.
I turned slightly and realized I was lying on a hospital bed. A thin blanket covered me, and I could feel something taped to my arm. I looked down and saw a drip connected to me, a bag of clear fluid hanging beside the bed.
Everything came back to me in pieces, the hunger, the thirst, the cruel voices of the maids, the angry eyes of the triplets, the shame of being treated like I was nothing. And then... blackness.
"You're awake," a soft voice said beside me.
When I opened my eyes, everything felt hazy at first, the white ceiling above me, the faint beeping of a machine nearby, the cool feeling of a drip in my arm. My body ached with weakness, but at least I was alive… and not alone.
I blinked slowly, my vision adjusting to the soft lighting in the room. That was when I saw him sitting on a chair beside the bed. A boy.
He looked close to my age. His face was calm, kind even, and not like the faces I'd grown used to, full of scorn, cruelty, or pity. He had warm tan skin and dark, neatly cut hair, and his brown eyes met mine the second I shifted.
"Are you okay?" he asked gently, his voice soft and full of concern.
I blinked at him, my throat feeling like it was coated in sandpaper. I tried to swallow, but it only made the pain worse. My lips parted, and I barely managed to croak out one word. "Water…"
He didn't hesitate. Milo stood quickly, moving with quiet urgency. I watched through tired eyes as he reached for the jug on the small table beside the bed. He poured some water into a cup, careful not to spill, and then turned to me, holding it out like it was something precious.
"Here," he said. "The doctor said you were dehydrated. You fainted. You need to rest and eat."
My hand trembled as I reached out. My fingers brushed against the cup, and for a moment, I thought I might drop it. But Milo didn't let go right away, he steadied it in my grip until I could hold it on my own.
The cup felt cold against my skin. I brought it to my lips slowly, every movement feeling like it took a mountain of effort. The first sip hit my tongue and I closed my eyes. It was like life itself was flowing back into me. The water was cool and clean, and I could feel it slipping down my throat, easing the tight dryness that had kept me silent and aching for days.
Another small sip, and then another. I didn't want to drink too fast. My body wasn't ready for that. But I could already feel the difference. A little less heavy. A little less hollow.
"Thank you," I whispered, lowering the cup with both hands. My arms were weak, but I managed a small smile through it all. It was the first smile I'd worn in a long time.
He sat down again. "I'm Milo. I help around the clinic sometimes, but I work in the main palace. The doctor said I should stay here until you woke up."
Milo. His name was Milo. Even his name sounded kind.
I nodded slowly. "I'm Lisa."
I know," he said softly. "Everyone in the pack knows who you are."
My smile faded. The small warmth that had started to build in my chest slipped away. I looked away from him, ashamed. My eyes focused on the plain wall of the clinic room, the pale color somehow making me feel smaller. "They hate me."
He didn't respond right away. The silence between us felt heavy, but not cold. Not like the silence I was used to, the kind that came after cruel laughter or angry glares. This one felt thoughtful.
Finally, he spoke. "I don't."
I blinked, turning my head slowly to look at him. His eyes were kind, steady, not mocking like the others. I wasn't sure I'd heard him right.
"You don't?"
He shook his head gently. "They don't know what you go through. People like to talk. It makes them feel better about their own pain. But I saw how you looked when they brought you in. You didn't deserve that."
Tears welled up in my eyes so suddenly that I couldn't even pretend to blink them away. My lips parted, but I didn't know what to say. No one had said anything kind to me in so long. Days, maybe weeks. Every word thrown at me had been sharp, cutting. Every glance had been judgmental. Just hearing those words, simple, honest, without pity, made my heart ache in the worst and most beautiful way.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice trembling. I clutched the thin blanket covering me like it could hold me together.
He offered a small smile, one that made him look even younger but somehow wiser than most adults I'd met in the pack. "You don't need to thank me. It's just the truth."
I looked down at my lap. The IV drip was taped to my arm, the needle slightly stinging if I moved. I felt weak still, but the fog in my head had started to lift. My stomach growled quietly, a sharp reminder that I hadn't eaten in so long I could barely remember the taste of proper food.
"You should rest," he said gently, his voice softer now, like he was afraid of scaring me. "You need to eat something soon, too. The doctor said your blood sugar was really low."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My throat burned with unshed tears. I had felt so alone, so unwanted. But now, even if just for a little while, I had someone who cared.
He reached out and gently adjusted the blanket over me. "I'll tell the doctor you're awake. Maybe he can bring something for you to eat. Just stay still, okay?"
I closed my eyes, letting his kindness wrap around me like a warm blanket. For the first time in days, I didn't feel completely invisible.