184 An Unexpected Gesture of Care
184 An Unexpected Gesture of Care
“Who’s that?” Sebastian asked immediately, his voice tightening.
The sincerity in his words made my chest tighten. After a moment’s hesitation, I hit the call button.
“Actually, yes,” I admitted, surprised at the reduced throbbing. “Thank you.”
The accusation, however gentle, prickled at me. “I didn’t disappear. I came to work, which is where I was headed in the first place.”
As Quentin disappeared down the hallway, I rubbed my temples. The injury that had seemed minor was now sending sharp pangs across my forehead. I’d been so determined to flee from Sebastian that I hadn’t realized how hard I’d hit my
head.
“Yes?”
“Yes, on a Saturday,” I responded, more defensively than I intended. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of regular weekends.”
“On a Saturday?” His skepticism was clear.
Quentin nodded, accepting this vague explanation without pushing for more. “Most worthwhile things are.”
“On a Saturday,” Sebastian repeated, this time with a hint of something else–suspicion perhaps?
There was a pause before Sebastian spoke again. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.
His voice carried such genuine concern that I felt instantly ashamed of my childish avoidance. “I’m fine, Sebastian. Just busy with work.”
“It’s definitely not fine,” he countered, stepping closer to examine it. “That’s quite a bump now. You really should ice it.”
“I think we’ve covered everything for now,” Quentin said, closing the last portfolio. “Bu I should grab those sales projection files from your office before we wrap up, if that’s okay?”
184 An Unexpected Gosture of Care
The realization left me feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way I rarely allowed myself to be. As the elevator doors closed, I made a silent promise to myself–and to Sebastian- that I would try to be better at accepting kindness. It wasn’t his fault that everyone before him had taught me to expect so little.
“Call me later?” he asked, his voice softening again.
“Everything okay?” he asked, arranging papers with excessive precision.
“Fine,” I replied, adjusting the ice pack. “Just a friend checking in.”
“With Quentin,” he added.
I nodded. “Of course. They should be on the desk.
“I don’t doubt that,” Sebastian replied carefully. “I just want to make sure you’re not avoiding me because of what I said earlier.”
But it wasn’t what anyone would do–not in my experience. In my world, people rarely noticed your pain unless it somehow inconvenienced them. My father, stepmother, stepsister, even Alistair–none of them had ever shown genuine concern for my well–being unless it affected their plans.
I instinctively touched the spot and winced. “It’s fine.”
I sighed, both irritated and oddly touched by his insistence. People didn’t usually notice when I was hurt–or if they did, they rarely cared enough to do anything about
- it.
Quentin wasn’t buying it. “I’m getting you an ice pack” His tone left no room for argument as he turned toward the break room.
“Your forehead- he started.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “Not my business.”
“I’m sure it looks worse than it feels,” I lied, trying to maintain my professional composure.
“Yes, with Quentin. My colleague.” I emphasized the last word, wondering why I felt the need to clarify.
“Hazel, please just let me know you’re okay. I’m worried about you.”
184 An Unexpected Gesture of Care
The ice pack began to drip, and I pulled it away from my forehead. “I think that’s enough ice for now.”
I closed my eyes, regretting my sharp tone. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s been a long day?
Perhaps that’s why Sebastian’s attention felt so overwhelming. It wasn’t just his confession that had sent me running–it was the intensity of his concern, the unwavering focus of his attention. I’d spent so long being invisible that being truly seen was almost painful.
“I see.” Sebastian’s voice had taken on that controlled tone I recognized–the one that masked deeper feelings. “So you’re not alone there.”
I felt heat rise to my cheeks. “I’m not avoiding you. I’m working”
“I will,” I promised, this time meaning it.
As we walked toward the elevator, I felt a strange sense of self–awareness washing over me. Why had I reacted so poorly to Sebastian’s care? Why did I feel so awkward when
e concern? people showed
## Hazel’s POV
“No,” I confirmed, pressing the ice pack to my forehead. The cold relief was instant. “We’ve been reviewing past collection materials.”
Sebastian sighed. “I should let you get back to work then. But Hazel?”
“Yes, Sebastian. Work happens on weekends sometimes,” I said, a defensive edge returning to my voice. “Especially in fashion.”
“Just thinking about deadlines,” I lied smoothly, standing up. “I should probably call it a day.”
We worked in silence for a few minutes before I spoke again. “Sebastian is… complicated.”
My phone buzzed again. Sebastian had been texting periodically throughout the afternoon, and guilt pinched at me for continuing to ignore him. I finally pulled out my
phone to see his latest message:
Quentin returned moments later with a folder, but paused at the doorway, eyeing me with concern. “Your forehead looks worse.”
184 An Unexpected Gesture of Care
Just then, Quentin returned with an ice pack wrapped in a kitchen towel. “Here you go,” he said, loud enough for Sebastian to hear.
“I was about to,” I replied, half–truthfully.
Sebastian answered on the first ring. “Hazel? Are you alright?”
“Some friend,” Quentin remarked casually. “Sounds more like a doctor or a worried boyfriend.”
“Quentin Young, our new general manager,” I explained, taking the ice pack with a grateful nod. “He’s also working today.”
I shot him a warning look.
The answer came with stark clarity: I’d been trained to expect indifference. My defenses were built for neglect, not nurturing. When someone offered genuine care, I had no framework for how to receive it gracefully.
The afternoon stretched on, files spread across the conference table like a paper sea. My bump–related headache had settled into a dull throb that I tried to ignore while discussing past fashion shows with Quentin.
“You hit it pretty hard,” he said, his voice softening. “Did you put ice on it?”
“You look deep in thought,” Quentin observed, breaking into my reverie.
“Please keep that ice on for at least twenty minutes. And take some pain relievers if you haven’t already. The swelling might get worse before it improves.”
“Feel any better?” Quentin asked.
I wasn’t used to being cared for. It felt strange–uncomfortable even–to be the recipient of concern. For most of my life, I’d been the one looking after others: my dying mother, my chronically ill fiancé, even my ungrateful father when he’d fallen ill years ago. I was the caretaker, not the one receiving care.
His detailed concern caught me off guard. Most people would have simply said “feel better” and ended the call. “I,.. will. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said with an easy smile. “It’s what anyone would do.”
“Of course,” he said, gathering the remaining files. Thank you i
your time today. It
184 An Unexpected Gesture of Care
was incredibly helpful.”
“It’s just a small bump, I interrupted, not wanting him to make a big deal of it. “I barely
feel it.”
“You should have answered my texts,” he said, frustration edging into his tone. “I’ve been worried sick. You ran away and hurt yourself, then disappeared completely.”
Quentin raised an eyebrow at my tone but tactfully busied himself with reorganizing the files, giving me space for the call.
After ending the call, I looked up to find Quentin pretending not to have heard every word.
Yet here were two men in one day, bothered by a simple bump on my head. Sebastian had texted repeatedly, clearly distressed that I might be hurt. And Quentin, who barely knew me, had insisted on helping despite my protests.
