The rest of the day passes without incident. The rest of the week, in fact. I keep trying to work up the boldness - or come up with an excuse - to go and visit him, but I stop short each time.
There's no helping it. I'll have to abandon the secret admirer angle if I want to continue pursuing him as Ophelia.
Well. In a way it's liberating. I can focus on moving things forward with Viktor as me. Not as my alter ego, but as Ophelia.
The week before my next scheduled appointment I plan carefully, setting aside the gifts I want to give him.
I've picked out a book I think he might like, and I'd spent all week working on a little charm that would be the perfect addition to his practice.
The day I wake up is like any other, though my heart is thudding with anticipation and excitement. It will be so wonderful to see Viktor again, to spend the afternoon and evening in his company!
I feel giddy with joy and trepidation.
The world must be making fun of me, because when I leave the manor it's bright and sunny, but by the time I get halfway to the clinic a fall rainstorm breaks out.
A bad one.
I mean, it's nothing unusual to have fall rain like this. But, as it happens, my carriage's roof doesn't stay closed.
Because apparently my life has become one bad joke after another, the moment my driver opens the door to the carriage to check if anything is amiss the storm completely soaks the poor man.
To be fair, the rain only comes in on the passenger side, drenching my gown thoroughly, but in the time it took for him to get my attention and help me get out, both of us get soaked.
In the end I'm standing on the street in sodden shoes, shivering and miserable.
My dress clings to me, cold and wet, and my skin tingles in discomfort. I know I look utterly pathetic as I take out a handkerchief and try to dab the water off of my face.
If this is some kind of omen, I'm refusing to read it.
With determination and poise rivaling any noblewoman, I bid the driver to return home to the warmth of the manor. I shall walk the remaining distance to the clinic.
With...none of the gifts I planned to give him, because those all rode off in the carriage while I was too distracted being wet and miserable.
It's fine.
The street is drenched in a shallow pool of muddy, churning water, and my heels sink into the soft, murky puddles.
I walk with a slow, determined pace, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, my arms wrapped around my chest in an attempt to protect myself from the cold. My face and dress are splattered with mud. I must look like a mess. I just feel miserable.
The only think keeping me going is knowing that Viktor is at the end of this walk.
Just the thought of him and his warmth is enough to drive me to take the next step forward.
When I arrive, my nose runs like a leaking faucet, and my face is red. Viktor is, to his credit, on his feet and attentive as I stagger through the door.
His voice is sympathetic. "You are sick."
"Muh."
My mouth makes noises that are at least somewhat in the ballpark of proper speech, but it's the best I can do as my body protests movement.
It's not my finest hour.
At least I'm not actually sick, under all the misery and rain. I need to have at least one - oh, no, wait two - experiences with this man where I'm not sick or injured! I'm supposed to be his future lover, not his most persistent patient.
Viktor leads me over to a chair and lays his palm over my forehead, giving a grim shake of his head.
"I know, I know." I mutter. He's surely thinking the same thing I did. About me being a persistent patient. Not about the fever bit.
"What do you know, Ophelia?" Viktor asks patiently as he pulls out a clean towel and gently mops my face off, wiping my runny nose with it.
I sigh at his mother hen attitude.
"...M'not sick. It's just the rain." I cross my arms defiantly. Although it's hard to say what I'm defiant about. Except that I won't. be. sick. Not right now. "Getting sick in the rain's a myth. A-and - and even if it weren't, I couldn't be sick so fast! I only just got wet!"
Yes. Yes I am lecturing a doctor about basic medical knowledge. I've already gone mad with the (nonexistent!) fever, clearly.
Viktor smiles in amusement, even as he unbuttons my coat, slipping it off and hanging it over the back of the chair. "You wouldn't be the first person to simply exhibit signs of a sickness you already had, exacerbated by the cold and rain, however."
"I. Am. Not. Sick."
Why!! Why is he looking so amused!? I'm! Not! Sick!!
He starts fussing over me, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders. "You need to dry off and warm up immediately. How much time do you have? Is your family expecting you at a certain time?"
"I'm an adult." Okay. This body is 16. But whatever. "I don't have a curfew."
"Is that so." Viktor pauses, and his hands smooth my hair back from my face.
"You...seem a bit disoriented and not thinking straight," he concludes with a serious look on his face. "You didn't happen to experience one of your...spells, did you?"
D-did he just...diagnose my tripping into him as some kind of disease? Or is he being cheeky?
I resolutely refuse to examine why I'm having trouble telling the difference.
"...N-no," I reply sullenly. "I did not. I'm just -" I sneeze.
Viktor smiles. "Very cute, in a manner not unlike an indignant cat."
I try to stand up to go do...something...I don't know, maybe put my foot on the chair to scream 'I'm a VISITOR not a patient' at him, but he effortlessly guides me back into my seat.
"Warm up first, before you catch a chill. Your health is more important than being difficult and argumentative."
"You don't have to be so...blatant." I sniff. "...And I'm not being difficult."
I'm not being that difficult, anyway.
He sighs and wraps yet another warm blanket around me. I puff out my cheeks in silent protest...and huddle under the blanket. I know I probably look ridiculous, but I don't care. I'm warm now.
The look of bemused sympathy on Viktor's face is too much, so I turn to the window instead, taking in the pitter-patter of the rain on the glass.
"Would you like a handkerchief?" Viktor asks, holding it out in front of my face. "...So you can blow your nose."
"L-Ladies don't!!! Blow their noses!!! In public!!!" I shoot him a furious, indignant look.
"But it would be acceptable for them to do it in private, correct? Because, you know, I don't recall anyone else being here except you and me."
He seems so infuriatingly calm about this whole affair. Where are his usual shy, quiet mannerisms?! "Ahem. Hmph. Y-you're too clever for your own good."
He smirks. "Hardly, Ophelia. I only strive to be clever enough for my own good, is all."
He reaches out with the handkerchief and takes a moment to wipe away my runny nose.