While My Husband Cheated I Married His Powerful Brother novel Chapter 82

Chapter 82: Chapter 82 Tender Mercies

The night air was cool against her skin.

Veyra stood on the balcony, her hands resting on the stone railing, her face tilted toward the sky. The stars were scattered across the darkness like tiny pinpricks of light. The garden below was quiet. The city hummed in the distance.

She took a deep breath. The air smelled like jasmine and damp earth.

Her heart was still pounding from the armory. From Dorian’s words. From the way he had looked at her. But the cool breeze was helping. She could feel her cheeks cooling. Her pulse slowing.

She thought about everything that had happened today. The lunch with Dr. Harrison. The confrontation with Xander Hale. The negotiation with the million and Dorian’s approval of her university plans.

Her heart swelled with renewed determination.

She would study medicine. She would build her business. She would become strong. She would never be the helpless woman she had been with Caspian.

She clenched her fists on the railing. The pain in her raw palms reminded her that she was alive. That she was fighting. That she was winning.

She smiled into the darkness.

A knock came at the door behind her.

Veyra turned. She walked back into the bedroom. The door was still open. Leon Wei stood in the hallway, holding a white box with a red cross on the front.

"Mrs. Thorne," he said. "Mr. Thorne asked me to deliver this."

Veyra blinked. "What is it?"

"A first-aid kit. He said your hands need attention." Leon held out the box. "He also said you are not to argue."

Veyra took the kit. It was heavier than she expected. She looked at Leon. His face was neutral, but his eyes were curious.

"Thank you," she said.

Leon nodded. He turned and walked away.

Veyra closed the door. She carried the kit to the bed and sat down. She opened the lid.

Inside was everything she could possibly need. Antiseptic wipes. Gauze. Medical tape. Scissors. Tweezers. Burn cream. Pain relievers. And a box of adhesive bandages covered in cartoon characters.

Her throat tightened.

Dorian had thought of everything. He had not just sent a generic kit. He had sent one with Lily’s favorite bandages. The ones with the smiling animals. The ones that would make a child smile.

She picked up the box of bandages. Her fingers traced the edge.

He was thoughtful. Detail-oriented. He remembered things. Small things. Important things.

She felt deeply touched.

She set the box of bandages aside. She assumed they were included specifically for Lily. For when the little girl scraped her knee or bumped her elbow. For the inevitable minor injuries of childhood.

It was a kind gesture. A fatherly gesture which made her smiled.

Then she looked at her hands. The raw, red skin, the burst blisters and the tiny cuts.

She needed to clean them. But the thought of the antiseptic made her wince.

She set the kit on the nightstand. She would deal with it in a moment. She needed to gather her courage.

The bathroom door opened.

Dorian stepped out. He was wearing a white bathrobe. His hair was damp from the shower. His skin was flushed. His gray eyes found her immediately.

"You haven’t treated your hands," he said.

Veyra looked down. "I was about to."

"You were not. You were sitting there, staring at the kit, avoiding it."

She opened her mouth to argue. He was right. She closed her mouth.

Dorian walked to the nightstand. He picked up the first-aid kit. He carried it to the small table near the window. He opened it. He pulled out the antiseptic wipes and the iodine.

"The wound needs disinfecting," he said. "If you don’t clean it properly, it will become infected."

"I know."

"Then why haven’t you done it?"

Veyra looked at her hands. "Because it’s going to hurt."

Dorian looked at her. His expression was unreadable.

"Sit down," he said.

Veyra sat on the edge of the bed.

Dorian pulled a chair close to her. He sat down. He picked up a cotton swab and the iodine bottle. He uncapped the bottle. He poured a small amount of iodine onto the swab.

The smell was sharp. Medicinal.

"Give me your hand," he said.

Veyra hesitated. Then she extended her left hand. Her palm was raw. The skin was red and cracked.

Dorian took her hand. His fingers were warm. His touch was gentle.

He pressed the iodine-soaked swab to her palm.

Veyra hissed. The pain was sharp. Burning. She tried to pull her hand back.

Dorian held firm. "Do not move."

"It hurts."

"I know. But it must be done."

He continued. Slow. Deliberate. He cleaned every inch of the wound. The swab turned pink. Then red. He discarded it. He picked up a fresh one. He poured more iodine.

Veyra bit her lip. Her eyes watered. But she did not pull away again.

Dorian worked in silence.

He cleaned her left palm thoroughly. Then he picked up a roll of gauze. He wrapped it around her hand. Not too tight. Not too loose. Just right.

He taped the end.

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