She hadn’t bothered to come to the hospital that day. She hadn’t bothered to reach out in the weeks after to ask how he was. Given that she was the reason his almost-healed wound had ripped open, it was the least anyone with even a modicum of decency would have done. Her warm bearing and impeccable manners had always felt so soothing, so familiar to him. They had reminded him of his mother. But his mãe wasn’t just polite, she was kind. There was a difference. It was another thing he had gotten wrong about Ashna.

“It’s been two weeks. It would be fine now, wouldn’t it?” he said, proud of how bored he sounded. Fine was a broad term, after all. He’d had to have another surgery, albeit a small one this time, to sew up the opened rip. Having fluid drained from your knee was never a party for anyone.

She blinked again. Had she always used her eyes quite so much instead of words? The only times he remembered her clamming up was when it came to her parents. In contrast, he’d talked about his mãe and pai to her constantly. She’d been the only person he’d ever been able to talk to about them. That ease, that openness, it’s what had gotten him in trouble in the first place. So, this new her was going to make life so much easier for him.

Come to think of it, everything about her seemed different now. She was so altered, in fact, he barely recognized her.

“I’m glad,” she said, deep tiredness dragging at her lids.

He should ignore it, but the exhausted disinterest annoyed him more than it should.

“That’s all you have to say about me saving your toes from being severed?” It came out an angry hiss.

She threw a glance around the room to make sure no one was listening. Everyone seemed too preoccupied to pay them any attention. The crew was pretending to give the chef-celebrity pairs space to get acquainted, but of course any camera-worthy moment would be fair game for the screen.

From the way Ashna was looking at him it was clear that getting acquainted with him was akin to diving into a pit of snakes.

“You took me by surprise,” she finally answered his question. “I should have been more careful. I’m sorry about your knee.”

It wasn’t like there was no remorse in her voice. It was more like there was a determined effort to keep her apology contained. She wanted him to know that she was apologizing for his knee and nothing else.

I’m sorry. But only for this.

A direct response to what he had said to her the other day.