The Continuation of the Accident
She lay unconscious on silk white sheets.
Tick. Tick.
The sound of the clock marked six hours since Maya last moved. 3:47 AM.
Wrapped in a navy robe given by her private physician, the woman was treated in her own room. A deep bruise marred her forehead, hidden beneath a gauze covering three stitches. Luckily, her hair would eventually conceal the scar—though not entirely. Her ruby-red lips were split, cut by shattered glass from the crash. No torn skin elsewhere, but her left leg, crushed under the twisted frame of her car, was broken. A wheelchair would be her companion for a while, perhaps even physical therapy to keep her from permanent paralysis.
Her cold body was blanketed in white. The lights were off, only moonlight crept through the gaps in the window. Fragrant candles filled the air with a soft floral scent. The air was icy.
Arden sat in a chair beside her, elbows resting on his knees, hands over his lips—silent. Careful not to make a sound, afraid to wake her. The woman lying before him… he wasn't sure if she'd ever wake again. But whoever did this—whoever turned Maya into this fragile, broken thing—they would pay. They must have a death wish, because Arden swore he'd send them to hell himself. May God never forgive them, may their prayers never be heard—for what they did to his soul. Maya.
---
For the first time in my life, I feel something like this.
It's as if I only learned how to breathe when I found you.
The day I first laid eyes on you, I knew—you were mine.
I thought I'd hate you, but everything inside me screamed otherwise.
I've seen countless beautiful eyes, but yours drowned me. You control me.
And I—
I don't deny it. I like it.
My entire world lies in the hands of this woman. She's like the Angel of Death holding my soul.
Loving you is the only reason I'm still standing,
But if you disappear, I'll disappear too.
My body might still be here, but my soul... would be lost.
You're not perfect, Maya. But you complete my hollow life.
You cry when you see the poor, yet you grew up with the same pain, in this very house, and no one cared.
But you—
Why do you care so much about others?
Who even cares about you?
What people say doesn't define you. You're kind. You're warm.
Your strength is your crown. You are extraordinary.
You once said you don't rely on anyone—
Until I became that "anyone."
I want a warm family—with you.
I want to be the father of your children.
I want to be the first person you fall asleep with at night, and the first you see when you open your eyes in the morning light.
I want to be the first to touch every inch of your body.
I want to breathe in every scent your skin holds.
I want to taste your lips longer than before.
I want my breath on your skin.
I want to be inside you, so deep you'll never forget what I feel like.
I love you, Maya. I want you to love me too.
To hell with the world and everyone in it.
I'm obsessed with you. I want to be your only one.
Wake up, Maya. Wake up, baby.
You make me weak. You make me mad.
Please, my love… this is only the beginning.
— Arden
---
Arden's gaze remained fixed on Maya's still body. He let out a slow breath, rubbing his palms against his black jeans, anxious.
A soft cough broke the silence.
Maya stirred.
Her eyes slowly tried to open. Her once-limp fingers twitched.
Arden noticed instantly and rushed to her side, grabbing her delicate hand in his, his other hand gently stroking her head, celebrating her fragile return to consciousness after six long hours.
Tears streamed from her eyes.
"Maya, baby... hey baby, I'm here," he whispered, pulling her hand to his chest so she could feel his frantic heartbeat.
Carefully, he adjusted her upright so she could lean back. Her breathing was shallow, her eyes flicking around, trying to grasp the reality after the terrifying accident. She peeled back the blanket. More tears fell when she saw her own broken state. She wanted to scream—but she had no strength left.
Arden quietly sat beside her, facing her, pulling her into his arms. She wept into his bare shoulder—warm and strong. For nearly half an hour, he held her, comforting her in silence.
Eventually, Maya pushed against his chest, attempting to free herself from the embrace. She could feel his solid chest pressed firmly against her own. Honestly, Arden could feel her too—every curve, even the hardened peak of her nipples brushing against his bare skin. He'd removed his shirt earlier, soaked with her blood.
He gently wiped her tears.
"Water..." Maya's voice was dry, barely audible.
Her mouth was parched, tongue heavy, her legs too weak to move.
"Water, alright, love. Wait here," Arden whispered, rushing to the nearby table to fetch a glass.
He carefully helped her drink.
The moment the glass touched her lips, Maya flinched—the coldness stung her wounded lip. She exhaled deeply. Thirst burned her throat. Arden said nothing, simply watched her.
"Let's try again, slowly, baby," he coaxed, watching her hesitate. She pulled away, but finally opened her mouth when Arden gently lifted her chin. He took a sip of water, leaned in, and kissed her, letting the water flow from his mouth into hers. Carefully. Lovingly. The water, now laced with his breath, trickled down her throat. His lips—warm, tender—lingered.
"More?" Arden asked as Maya dabbed at the droplets on her lips, head bowed. She nodded.
Again, he drank and pressed his mouth to hers. Their faces were so close. Her hands clung to his wrist.
Lips locked again—longer, deeper.
Hot breaths danced between them.
His hands moved from her cheeks into her hair, careful not to disturb her wounds.
Her hand found the nape of his neck—gripping him.
Breathless and trembling, they kissed. Warm. Intoxicating.
Hmm...
Hmmm...
Ah—
Maya gasped for air, but Arden plunged his tongue deeper.
Hmmm— The sound echoed in the cold silence.
Down her spine, she felt heat blooming—and something warm, wet, trickling from her core.
Arden's hand slid into the folds of her short robe, fingers daring to explore.
Maya instantly broke the kiss, pushing his hand away.
Both of them froze.
Breathing hard. Startled by their own actions.
They had lost themselves.
Arden quickly pulled the blanket over his now-hard cock.
Maya's ears burned red.
"I want to sleep," Maya whispered, settling back down.
"Oh... okay baby. Let's sleep," Arden replied, helping her lie down gently.
Then he rushed to the bathroom.
He yanked off his jeans.
His hand wrapped around his cock, squeezing hard.
Ah... Slight relief. But not enough.
Maya truly drove him mad.
But Arden wasn't a fool—she was still in pain. He wouldn't be reckless.
How could he, when even the older nurse and personal doctor had trouble undressing her earlier? Arden had insisted on handling it himself. Fortunately, Madam Rosie gave her permission—otherwise, the scene would've turned chaotic.
Only Arden was allowed to see Maya like this.
He had seen it all—her curves, her skin, her beauty.
All of it.
Untouched.
Because Maya belonged to Arden.
And only Arden could see her like this.