Captive Princess

As the car hit me, my consciousness began to fade.

Pain shot through my entire body, but what hurt more was the absolute, crushing despair of being abandoned.

Flashes of memory flooded my mind.

The first time I saw Vincent, sitting behind his desk, the cold light glinting off his glasses. Me, deliberately provoking him, and him, completely unmoved.

The first time he pinned me down, calling me Principessa, his voice low and ragged. I had thought it was love.

Countless nights, lying in his arms, listening to the steady beat of his heart, thinking I had finally found my home.

The final image was frozen in my mind: Vincent, without a moment's hesitation, diving to protect Isabella.

And me, like some disposable bystander, left to face the danger all alone.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital bed.

The room was quiet, but I could hear Vincent on the phone just outside my curtain.

"Isabella, does it still hurt?" His voice was so gentle it felt alien to me.

"Much better, thank you, Vincent," Isabella's voice was frail. "If you hadn't grabbed me in time, I might have..."

"Don't think about that," Vincent soothed her. "The doctor said you were just shaken up, no external injuries."

"Vincent, if it happened again, you would still save me first, right?"

Vincent didn't hesitate. "Of course."

"But Sophia got hit..."

"She has no reason to be angry," Vincent's voice was calm, logical. "In an emergency, of course I'm going to save the more fragile person. She understands that."

I closed my eyes, feeling as if someone had just plunged a knife into my heart.

So, in Vincent's mind, I didn't even have the right to be angry.

Footsteps approached, and the curtain around my bed was pulled back.

Vincent stood there. Seeing that I was awake, his face held not a single trace of guilt. "You're awake?"

"Yeah," my voice was hoarse.

"The doctor said you have a mild concussion and some scrapes on your leg. Nothing serious," Vincent said. "I've arranged for the best medical team. I'll stay here to take care of you for the next few days."

"Thanks," I said, staring up at the ceiling. "I'll pay you back for the medical bills in ten days."

Vincent frowned. "What are you talking about? What's in ten days?"

"I said I'll pay you back," I turned to look at him, my gaze flat. "And for the cost of my stay at your place. I'll settle it all at once."

Vincent's expression was strained. "Sophia, you don't have to keep score with me."

"Why not?" my voice was devoid of emotion. "We were never anything to each other, were we?"

The room fell silent for a few long seconds.

Vincent seemed to want to say something, but in the end, he just said, "Get some rest."

For the next few days, Vincent did stay at the hospital to look after me.

He checked on me regularly, made sure the nurses gave me my medication on time, and even tested the temperature of my food before letting me eat it.

But I remained cold and distant.

I didn't cry, didn't throw tantrums, didn't demand his attention. I treated him like a kind stranger, polite but utterly detached.

This new version of me seemed to make Vincent uncomfortable.

On the third afternoon, Vincent sat in the chair by my bed, watching me listlessly flip through a magazine.

"Sophia," he began.

"Hmm?" I didn't look up.

"About that night..." Vincent paused. "I saved Isabella first, but it wasn't because I didn't want to save you."

He continued, "Isabella's body is weak. She couldn't have survived the impact. It was the only logical choice..."

I put down the magazine, cutting him off. "I know."

Vincent looked at me, a strange, unreadable emotion in his eyes. "You're really not angry?"

"Do you want me to be?"

Just then, a commotion erupted in the hallway.

"Hurry! Get her to the ER!"

"What happened?"

"Miss Isabella fell down the stairs! She's hurt badly!"

The color drained from Vincent's face.

He shot to his feet. "I have to go handle something," he said quickly.

He walked to the door, then glanced back at me. "I'll be back to check on you later."

I listened to his hurried footsteps fade down the hall and closed my eyes, a wave of profound exhaustion washing over me.

Isabella had once again succeeded in taking Vincent away from me.

And I no longer had the strength to fight for him.

In a week, he'd be free to be with her anyway.