Maeve slumped against the couch, exhausted, her throbbing headache intensified. The medication barely alleviated her misery. Just as she was about to crash on the sofa, a wave of drowsiness set in. A knock echoed through her dimly lit apartment. She ignored it at first, hoping whoever it was would just go away, but the knock was persistent. Groaning, she reluctantly shuffled to the door, pulling it open.
"Maeve?" Oliver's deep voice echoed softly. a bit of shock from both ends as they stared at one another. Oliver's sullen expression had surprised her.
"What can I help you with? Considering this is rather late to see anyone" she said, folding her hands across her chest. The deep frown from her pierced at his heart. He pulled out the smoked beef wrapped in a plate and tightly sealed, the one he had wanted to give her the day before but couldn't.
"I came to give you this as the new neighbor next door," he said, passing the food to her. Maeve inspects it before giving a slight nod of approval. "Thanks," she replied, about to close the door.
Oliver's foot was wedged between the doorframe preventing closure, an impulsive step on his part. It was hard to end it just like that, he wanted to talk more with her. It had been so long since they last spoke. The interference he had caused only annoyed Maeve further, her icy gaze burned into his face.
"What else do you want?" Maeve muttered, annoyance flaring. She would appreciate tucking into her covers rather than talking with him. And the throbbing headache had yet to seize, talking at the foot of her door didn't make it any better.
"Maeve, I also want to say how truly sorry I am about us in the past," he said sincerely, even on the last day before she disappeared after prom. He had been acting like a jerk to her, and he felt more guilty when he couldn't contact her after she had been renounced from her family. Now was his chance to make amends.
The splitting headache throbbed the more and It felt like her skull was about to be split open, and with a weary gaze, she didn't want this conversation to escalate further than this. "Fine, I accept your apology let's leave everything behind us." Oliver's face washed with relief as he smiled softly. but she continued.
"...On the condition that we are nothing more than neighbours. There's nothing good that will come out from us trying to go back to the way we were" Maeve said in an icy tone. They were meant to draw a line between them.
She went to drop the smoked beef on her kitchen counter, leaving Oliver at the door with a troubled look on his face. He didn't expect her to completely accept his apology. However, it was up to a great start between them. He noticed her sway and stumble a bit at the counter. His mind weighed on whether to barge in when she had not invited him in.
"Are you okay, Maeve?" he said to her from the door. Maeve swayed once more. Oliver noticing she had turned pale threw his courtesy out the window and stepped into her apartment. He had rushed beside her, supporting her. "Maeve?" he called out to her once more. Her body was warm, he noticed.
Oliver had gently laid her on the sofa, the soft cushion enveloping her frail form. "God you're burning up. How did you notice you were this sick" he lamented after touching her forehead. The warm touch eased into a sizzling burn to his palm.
Maeve's eyelids fluttered unfocused, faint whisper vanished amidst her chest rising with ragged breathing. Oliver placed a cloth over her forehead hoping to cool her head down. her vision blurred, darkness engulfing her. Oliver watched her fragile state. His mind was in turmoil about what to do.
later into the night,
Maeve's eyelids fluttered open, the feeling of her body's fatigue disappeared slightly, and her senses were distracted by the sweet and savoury aroma of homemade soup in her room. she noticed she was nestled under layers of covers, the warmth starting to feel uncomfortable.
When did she tuck herself in? She slumped back into the bed, and a wave of exhaustion came over her.
Had she been cooking before she fell asleep? It was dangerous too. She quickly scurried to her feet, dizziness overcoming in the instant she stood upright. She was back down on her bed, taking a seat. maybe she shouldn't have stood up so fast. she thought.
Just then, in the midst of her awakening awareness, Oliver walked in, a tray in his hands and a bowl placed in the center. His expression turned cautious, seeing as she was awake. Maeve was petrified when she saw him.
"How did you get in?" Maeve demanded in a raised tone. She remembered their brief conversation at the door and that was it. She didn't remember inviting him in. How dare he?
"You fell unconscious, and you were terribly sick. I couldn't leave you all alone." he tried to explain. Maeve was still in a state of paranoia. Her hands searched hastily for her phone. Shit. she cussed internally. How could she let someone in so easily?
"Maeve, if you would listen to what I'm saying" He approached slowly to her bedside. and she froze in shock.
"Step back and get out of my place. I don't remember inviting you into my apartment. If you don't want me to call the police, leave right now." Maeve's fierce tone belied her weakened state. Oliver saw the intent in her eyes and slowly drew away.
Maeve's accusation had struck him deeply, a simple act of concern turned into a huge misunderstanding. HIs expression had darkened feeling a mix of hurt and frustration build up inside him.
"You'd really think that I'd hurt you, Maeve?" Oliver said, his voice firm and low. for a second Maeve faltered, sensing the pain behind his words.
He sets the tray beside her, the scent was closer to her now and she could almost taste it. "Eat the soup before it gets cold" Oliver informed right before he exited her place.
"Wait..." she called out but he didn't respond. She didn't mean to react like that. IT was now she saw she had overdone her response so far as threatening him. The bitter feeling of her guilt crept up her throat, the burning feeling was hard to swallow.
Maeve glanced at the wet towel on her lap, it had toppled from her head. The bowl on the chair next to her filled a couple inches with water and the soup- beside her desk that he had made for her. The familiar scent reminded her of the soup the chef at the Hathaway's prepared for them as children on rainy days or when one of them was gloomy. Her face flushed in deep embarrassment.
Her stomach grumbled, breaking the silence in her dimly lit room. The soup beckoned on her, its fragrance became irresistible. Maeve took the bowl and lifted a spoonful, savoring the first sip. It was divine indeed.
Not too long after the sweet sensation of the soup, her guilt crept up again. She stared at the door Oliver had left from. She needed to apologize to him.