Tryson gazed at her for a moment, a flicker of hesitation passing across his features, before his attention shifted toward Angel, who remained lying motionless on the bed.
There was a subtle weight in his expression, as though he were weighing his options carefully. With a deep breath and a quiet sigh, Tryson nodded, the decision seemingly made. He then spoke, his voice calm but thoughtful.
"I'm not entirely certain that the meal will be appropriate for her right now," he said slowly, his eyes never leaving Angel for more than a brief moment. "But if you believe it will offer her some comfort, then please, bring it in."
Karina nodded, acknowledging his words, and with a courteous smile, excused herself from the room, stepping quietly out of the door.
The moment she was gone, the air in the room seemed to shift, and Tryson's attention returned fully to Angel.
He stood still for a second, studying her expression, his heart heavy with a mix of sympathy and frustration.
He sighed again, deep and soft, before walking over to her bedside. He gently placed his hand on hers, his fingers tracing over her skin in a tender gesture, but Angel didn't stir.
There was no hesitation now in Tryson's actions, no uncertainty; he knew what he had to do.
"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as though afraid to disturb the fragile peace between them.
He waited, watching for some sign of a response, but Angel only continued to lie there, her head resting on the pillow, staring blankly at the ceiling, lost in her own world of discomfort and pain.
"I feel like I'm dying," Angel's voice was barely audible, but the weight of her words hung in the air.
There was a raw honesty in her confession, one that made Tryson pause for a moment, his heart aching for her.
"Okay then," Tryson replied quietly, his tone gentle but firm.
He then moved to the edge of the bed, and in a sudden, unexpected movement, he positioned himself at the head of the bed.
Without saying another word, he carefully lifted her head and gently laid it across his lap. It was an intimate gesture, one that conveyed more than words ever could.
Angel blinked in surprise, her eyes meeting his, as a question lingered on her lips. "What are you doing?" she asked, but there was no resistance in her voice, no pushback against his actions.
It was as though, despite everything, she was willing to accept this one moment of care.
"Trust me," Tryson said, his voice soft but insistent. "You'll feel better once I'm done. Your pain will subside."
Angel hesitated for a second, her mind racing with doubts, but before she could protest further, she felt Tryson's fingers begin to work gently into her scalp, massaging in slow, deliberate motions.
A warmth began to spread through her, an unexpected relief that seemed to ease the tension coiled within her body.
The sensation was soothing, and despite the chaos in her mind, Angel couldn't help but close her eyes and give herself over to the comfort Tryson was offering.
It felt so natural, like something she had longed for without even realizing it. It was hard not to believe that Tryson, in this moment, was the source of this unexpected peace.
For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to enjoy it—this simple act of kindness, this small break from the pain. She couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, she deserved this—after everything she had endured because of the decisions Tryson had made.
"Are you feeling better?" Tryson's voice broke through her thoughts, warm and concerned.
Angel's eyes remained closed, but she nodded, the slight shift of her head against his lap the only indication that she was responding.
The smile that crept onto Tryson's face was gentle, almost tender, as he watched her.
For a moment, Angel seemed at peace, her body finally at ease after the torment she had been enduring. The exhaustion that had gripped her seemed to lift, and she appeared as though she could finally breathe again.
But then, in a surprising, almost playful moment, Tryson leaned down and kissed her forehead.
Angel's eyes snapped open, and she found herself staring directly into his. Her heart raced unexpectedly at the gesture, her emotions swirling as she tried to make sense of what she was feeling.
She didn't know how to react, but before she could process it all, a knock at the door broke the fragile tension between them.
"I'll get that," Tryson said, his voice returning to its calm, collected tone. He rose from the bed and made his way to the door, opening it to reveal Moore standing on the other side.
"Hey," Tryson greeted him, allowing Moore to step into the room.
The doctor moved swiftly, his eyes immediately scanning Angel's condition. After a quick examination, Moore let out a small breath, his demeanor professional yet concerned.
"She's just reacting to the symptoms of her pregnancy," Moore explained, his tone reassuring. "It's normal, especially in the first trimester. It's going to take some time, but there's nothing to worry about."
Tryson listened attentively, his arms folded across his chest as he observed them.
He was silent for a moment, deep in thought, before he spoke again, his voice a little strained with concern. "Is there any medication that can help reduce her stress? She's been really overwhelmed, especially with the vomiting."
Moore paused, his expression thoughtful. "I understand how hard this must be for you, but right now, the best course of action is to let her body adjust naturally. I can give her some medicine to help relieve the symptoms, but right now, it's essential that she eats the right foods to nourish her and the baby. Strong vitamins are crucial, not medications that might interfere."
Tryson nodded slowly, his gaze shifting back to Angel, who was still lying on the bed, her eyes half-closed. "So, I just need to be here for her while she goes through this?"
"Exactly," Moore confirmed. "And you, too—you need to rest. No stress, no overexertion. The baby is delicate, and you need to be patient. Let her take it easy for now."
Tryson let out a deep breath and nodded again. "Okay, thanks, Moore."
With that, Moore left, leaving the two of them alone once more. Tryson returned to Angel's side, sitting beside her on the bed. His tone was soft, but firm, as he spoke to her once again.
"So, you really have to rest now," Tryson said gently, though he noticed Angel's eyes roll as she sighed dramatically.
"Here we go again," she muttered, but there was a trace of amusement in her voice.
"Angel," Tryson said, leaning closer, "I know it seems like I'm being overly demanding, but right now, all I care about is your health—and the health of our baby."
At the mention of the baby, Angel's tone shifted.
She looked at him, her eyes cold, yet a small spark of defiance flickered within them. "Even if the child belongs to Arthur?" she asked deliberately, her words cutting through the room like a sharp blade.
The room fell silent, a heavy tension filling the air as Tryson stared at her, his expression unreadable.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally nodded, his voice steady but laced with a quiet acceptance.
"Yes," Tryson said quietly, "even if the child belongs to another man."