His clenched fists rested on the hospital bed, his efforts clearly aimed at avoiding any movements that might aggravate his wound.
Alice lowered her head, her bandaged fingers fidgeting with an almost childlike unease as she pouted.
But Rafael's patience was clearly wearing thin, his irritation palpable as his temper threatened to erupt.
Hera watched the scene, her emotions a tangled mess.
She couldn't quite place what she was feeling.
Was it the fear that Rafael might soften toward Alice, treating her with kindness that could eventually lead to feelings—just like in the novel?
Or was it jealousy, a sense of possessiveness, seeing Alice alone with him?
Or perhaps it was a deeper unease, a worry about what the original female lead—someone who held so much influence—might do in this situation?
Hera didn't know. All she could do was stand there, torn, unsure of what to feel, watching the scene unfold.
"Hera?"
