HIS DAME

Chapter 31

Greetings sweet people....
How are you?

This chapter is dedicated to shazameena (my honeybunch 🍯)

Please ignore the typo mistakes

Enjoy!!
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Nedvar walked into Hermione's room, carefully carrying her sleeping form. She looked peaceful, almost childlike, as if all her worries had momentarily vanished, leaving him alone to tend to her. Gently, he laid her on the bed, pulling the duvet up to her shoulders. Hermione murmured softly, sighing as she sank into the warmth of the bed, completely unaware of his presence.

Once she seemed comfortable, Nedvar knelt beside her, his fingers lightly brushing her cheek and jaw. Part of him wanted to crawl into bed beside her, to hold her close, but he held back. She hadn't yet accepted the idea of being that close, and he respected her boundaries, even as his heart ached for her.

"Falling in love with you was the best thing that ever happened to me," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he gazed at her, a soft smile on his face. Yet, he couldn't ignore the pang of sadness in his chest. He knew that, for Hermione, things were different. Her upbringing, her independence—it shaped her views, and he respected that.

In his world, men were raised to be protectors, to take charge, yet he understood now that true strength lay in embracing a partner's independence. He vowed to himself that he'd never let her feel like a burden, never let her self-respect waver just because she wanted to carry her own weight. Hermione was fierce, and he admired her for it.

Taking one last look at her, he left her side and returned to the living room. The family sat around, listening to Leo explain the reports. But Nedvar wasn't paying close attention; he knew he'd have his own doctor handle her recovery.

Noticing the quiet, everyone turned their attention as Nedvar cleared his throat.

"Leo, I owe you. Thank you for helping Mia. If you ever need anything, remember I'm just a call away," he said, his gratitude evident in his tone.

Warner, Hermione's father, stood up and nodded. "It's late, so we'll take our leave now. We'll come back tomorrow to check on her."

Nedvar quickly interjected. "It's already very late, and tomorrow is Christmas. I'd like you all to stay here and celebrate with us."

After some back-and-forth, they all reluctantly agreed to stay for the night.

Nedvar looked around the room, his tone shifting, voice firm. "One last thing—what happened tonight stays here. No one is to bring it up again."

A ripple of understanding passed through the room as everyone nodded, each person recognizing the gravity of his words.

The next morning...

Hermione stirred on the bed, her sleep finally broken by the throbbing pain of a migraine. Slowly, she opened her eyes, rubbing them to clear her vision. Blinking a few times, she sat up, gazing drowsily at the wall. Gradually, she shook off the haze of sleep, recalling that she should freshen up and head downstairs.

Rushing out of the bathroom, Hermione's memory jolted—last night was supposed to be a family celebration for Christmas Eve. But instead, she'd been in an accident, and everything after that was a blur.

As she descended the stairs, she noticed an unusual quiet. There were no sounds of Ethan's loud giggles, Ma Arne scolding Dante for his constant kitchen mischief, nor any of the usual chatter and bustle of the staff going about their routines. She reached the bottom step, glancing around the silent hall and living room.