Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 713

Even when the emotion was unsettling, it was better than the old uncertainty. At least she knew what she was dealing with.

Being with someone meant reading their mood and adjusting to it. The whole point was to make both people feel at ease.

Draven was clearly stewing. Ayla was a little wary of his anger. "I'm much better."

He'd never gotten angry at her before. So, she'd never known there was something to fear.

Ayla sat up on her own and leaned against the headboard, instinctively putting about three feet between them.

Any further and she'd be off the blanket.

She was cold.

Sitting up, she noticed Draven had changed into pajamas, too.

Hers were black.

His were black. Same design.

She deliberately ignored the matching-couple vibe and let her eyes drift to his injured leg.

Should she ask?

He'd been taking care of her all day. Put in the effort. Spent the energy.

Broken up or not, a polite question felt warranted.

Ayla asked the question she'd been sitting on. "How's your leg?"

At the exact same moment, Draven spoke. "You don't look much better yourself."

They started at the same time. Stopped at the same time.

Awkwardness spread between them like smoke.

Ayla genuinely wasn't sure how to navigate this new version of Draven.

Too intimate, and she'd slip back into girlfriend mode—teasing him, leaning into him.

Not appropriate.

Too cold, and Draven should have kept his distance while she was sick. Let the staff handle it. Kept things professional. But instead, he'd been there with his own hands the entire time.

They weren't strangers.

But they weren't lovers who could bare everything to each other, either.

Familiar but not. Close but not quite.

There was a transparent wall between them.

Draven was strong enough to handle a wound like this. And if he hadn't been, he wouldn't have had the strength to take care of Ayla.

Ayla looked at the bandaged area. "Okay."

"Want to see?"

Seeing was believing. "Sure."

Draven rolled up the pajama leg.

The wound was several inches above the knee. A large bandage covered it. The inner thigh carried a major artery. If Troy's blade had gone deeper, blood would have poured out. Hemorrhagic shock. Death.

"I see it." Ayla felt relieved.

Draven smoothed the fabric back down. Black pajamas, wound hidden. No trace of anything wrong. Just the same elegant, untouchable Draven Storm.

What had happened this morning still terrified her when she thought about it.

Then, she thought of Troy.

"How is Troy doing?"

Looking at her phone made her dizzy, so she hadn't been able to check for news.

Draven's gaze lowered. Something dark moved behind his eyes. "You're worried about him?"