The Bond Between Us (Anastasia and Herman)

Her pleas felt like a knife straight through Herman's chest.

Swallowing his bitterness, he walked over and set the bowl of bird's nest soup

gently on the nightstand.

You spend enough time in the dark, and eventually your eyes adjust—you start to

see everything.

Herman sat at the edge of the bed, his voice soft and gentle. "Honey, try to eat a

little, okay?"

Anastasia looked at him, and before she could even speak, tears poured down

her face.

She shook her head, struggling to keep it together. But when Herman's hand

reached for her forehead, she flinched, instinctively pulling back, her eyes wide

with fear. "Don't—don't touch me."

His hand froze in the air, his pupils contracting.

He swallowed, the pain sharp and jagged, like swallowing shards of glass.

Holding himself back, Herman lowered his hand and tried to make himself smaller,

afraid of scaring her even more.

"I'll just leave it here, alright? And the medicine too, it's right here. I'll be over on

the couch if you need anything. Just call me, okay?"

His voice was so quiet—almost pleading.

He still couldn't shake the memory of finding her by the roadside, the surge of

rage that made him want to tear apart whoever had hurt her.

Herman backed away and sat on the sofa. Anastasia leaned against the

headboard, slowly letting herself relax.

They sat in silence: one at the bed, one on the couch, the night cool and still.

Anastasia found herself thinking, If only time could rewind.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that, just the two of them and the quiet,

until Herman finally broke the silence.

"I remember everything now, Ana. All of it. I remember you."

The words sent her over the edge. Joy and heartbreak tangled inside her—he

remembered, but why now, of all times?

She bit her lip hard, refusing to break down in front of him. She couldn't let him

see her cry, couldn't let him hurt even more.

She didn't even know when the tears on her face had dried. The night seemed to

stretch on forever.

The word "divorce" sat on her tongue, impossible to say and impossible to

swallow.

"Herman, we... we..." Her voice broke as she covered her face, sobs shaking her

shoulders.

Herman could feel her pain, could guess the words she couldn't bring herself to

say. He wanted to go to her—he even half-stood—but then sat back down. She

was too scared of being touched.

He tried to change the subject. "I

canceled Pattie's birthday party.

We'll have another one for her next

time. Emmie and Nancy can walk

now—those two are quick learners.noveldrama

They're all at Salstrom Manor with

your mom, who's still up downstairs.

Your dad..."

"Herman." Anastasia drew a shaky

breath, the air slicing through her

lungs. "That night, after I left the

dinner, I got in a cab... I don't

remember what happened after that.

When I woke up, I was in a cave.

There were four men..."

Her voice was strangely calm, but under the covers, her fists were clenched so

tightly her nails dug into her palms, drawing blood.

"They forced medicine down my throat. After that, I couldn't control my body...

and then... Herman, I'm dirty."

After saying it, she felt completely drained, like all the strength had left her.

Everything hurt—her heart, her soul, her whole body.

Her memories were broken and blurry, twisted by whatever they'd given her. She

couldn't tell what was real and what was nightmare, so she took the worst to be

the truth.

Herman's face was tight with pain.

He couldn't stop himself—he rushed

over and pulled her into his arms.

"Forget it, Ana. Please, forget it. It's

over. Those four men... they're dead.

It's all over."

"Dead?" Anastasia looked up at him in shock. "Did you... Did you kill them?"

Her reaction made it clear she hadn't known what happened to those men—or to

anyone else who might have been there.

"I found you by the road. Dailey and his team found the cave, but those four were

already dead." He held her shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Ana."

She stared at him, stunned. If it wasn't Herman, then who did it?

In the haze of her memory, she thought she'd heard Rowan's voice that night.

Could it have been Rowan?

"Who killed them? Did they find out who did it?"

She didn't dare say more—wasn't even sure if she'd really seen Rowan, or if it

was just another hallucination.

"There aren't any leads yet," he said, his voice rough. "There must have been

someone else there. But please, let's not talk about it right now."

Anastasia didn't answer. Her eyes went dull. Some wounds hurt, even if you

never touch them.