Bound to my Enemy novel Chapter 62

Chapter 62: Chapter 62.

I wake up sore, I gues getting choked two nights in a row does that to someone.

My neck is sore, more like the ache that settles into your muscles after a bad fall or a long night you didn’t sleep through properly. My neck feels tight when I turn my head. I sit up slowly, letting the room come into focus, then swing my legs over the side of the bed.

I shower longer than I need to, standing under the water until the heat loosens the stiffness in my shoulders and neck. I don’t rush, there’s nowhere I need to be, no one waiting for me, and for once that feels like a small mercy. I dress simply, soft clothes, nothing fitted, just comfortable.

As I blow dry my hair, Margaret crosses my mind, I had reminded her of her traumas, and even though I didn’t know and I didn’t do it on purpose, i still feel like I owe her an apology.

I shouldn’t have said it like that. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything at all and tried to cover up the marks.

By the time I head downstairs, the house smells like food. Sweet delicious food, something warm and comforting . The kitchen light is on, and Margaret is already moving around with her hair pinned back and sleeves rolled up.

She looks up when she hears me.

"Oh. Good morning sweetie " she says. Sounding as pleasant as always.

"Morning," I reply, hesitating at the doorway. "I was wondering if you needed any help."

She smiles immediately and shakes her head. "No, no. I’m fine, dear. You don’t need to do anything ."

"I know," I say, stepping in anyway. "I just... I would like to help. If that’s okay."

She studies me for a second, then sighs softly, the kind of sigh that means she knows she won’t win this. "Alright. Something small then. You can slice those fruits there, I have washed them already they just need cutting," she adds, handing me a knife with a pointed look.

"I can handle fruit," I say.

"I’m sure you can, sweetie" she replies.

We work side by side for a few minutes, the sound of chopping and pans filling the space between us. It’s comfortable in a way I didn’t expect. I almost let it stay that way, but the words sit heavy in my chest, and I know if I don’t say them now, I’ll keep replaying it in my head.

"Margaret," I start, keeping my eyes on the cutting board. "About yesterday. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to... I didn’t think."

She makes a small noise and reaches over, lightly tapping my wrist with the back of her fingers, in that motherly way. "Oh shush baby."

I look up at her.

"It isn’t your fault," she says firmly. "None of it was. You didn’t do anything wrong, and you don’t owe me an apology."

"I still..."

"No," she interrupts gently. "I mean it. Some things just... stay close to the surface. That’s mine to manage, not yours."

I swallow and nod. "Okay."

She gives me a softer smile this time. "Thank you for apologizing though. It means more than you know."

When we’re done, she waves me away toward the dining room. "Go sit. I’ll bring your food, no arguing."

I don’t argue.

Zane is already seated when I walk in. Thomas is there too, standing near the sideboard, coffee in hand. They both look up when I enter.

"Morning," I say, to both of them.

"Morning," Thomas replies.

Zane just nods.

I take my seat across from him. The table feels large with just the three of us, formal in a way that makes even breakfast feel like a meeting. Margaret brings the plates in, sets them down quietly, then leaves.

We eat in silence for a bit, the clink of cutlery is the loudest sound in the room.

Halfway through, Zane sets his fork down.

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