122 The Kindness She Never Knew
Hazel’s POV
“No, I didn’t lie,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “It’s just a scratch.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Show me.”
His direct command startled me. “It’s really not necessary-”
“Hazel.” The gentleness in his voice contrasted with the firmness of his request. “Please.”
I hesitated, then slowly rolled up my sleeve, revealing the angry red line that ran along my forearm. It wasn’t just a scratch as I’d claimed-it was a long cut, the skin around it slightly inflamed.
Sebastian’s expression darkened as he examined it. “This isn’t ‘just a scratch. Have you cleaned it properly?”
“I washed it,” I mumbled, suddenly feeling foolish under his intense scrutiny.
“With soap and antiseptic?” When I didn’t respond immediately, he sighed. “I thought
not.”
I pulled my arm back defensively. “It’s fine. I’ve had worse.”
“That’s not reassuring,” Sebastian said, his voice low. “Did you get a tetanus shot?”
At the mention of a shot, I felt my body tense involuntarily. “No, I don’t need one.”
Sebastian studied my face, his perceptive eyes catching what I tried to hide. “You’re
afraid of needles.”
It wasn’t a question. Heat rose to my cheeks as I looked away. “A little.”
“Then how did you manage to donate blood to Alistair all those times?”
His question hit me like a physical blow. My throat tightened as memories flooded back-the stark hospital rooms, the cold antiseptic smell, the paralyzing terror each time the nurse approached with the needle. Six years of forcing myself through that fear, over and over again, my knuckles white as I gripped the armrest, tears stinging
my eyes that I refused to let fall.
All for a man who threw me away like I meant nothing.
“Hazel?” Sebastian’s voice was gentle, pulling me back from my thoughts.
I blinked rapidly, fighting the sudden moisture in my eyes. “I just did it,” I whispered. “He needed me.”
Something in Sebastian’s expression shifted-a flash of anger followed by profound compassion. He reached out, his fingertips brushing lightly against my wrist before gently pulling my sleeve back down.
“You overcame your greatest fear for someone who never appreciated the magnitude of that sacrifice,” he said quietly.
His understanding was so complete, so precise, that it left me breathless. No one had ever acknowledged how terrified I’d been, how much courage each donation had required. Not even Alistair.
“It was nothing,” I said automatically, the response I’d trained myself to give whenever anyone commented on my donations.
“It wasn’t nothing,” Sebastian countered firmly. “It was everything. Your fear is real, Hazel. What you did was extraordinary.”
His validation unleashed something in me-a tightly coiled knot of pain I hadn’t even recognized was there. For years, I’d minimized my own struggle because everyone, including Alistair, treated my donations as expected, as merely my duty to someone I loved.
“He never once thanked me,” I admitted, the words escaping before I could stop them. “Not once in six years.”
Sebastian’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Some people don’t recognize true kindness when it’s given to them.”
I looked down at my half-eaten salad, suddenly not hungry. “It doesn’t matter
anymore.”
“It matters,” he said quietly. “Your kindness matters, Hazel. Even when it goes unappreciated.”
A small silence fell between us, comfortable yet charged with emotion. Sebastian reached for his phone, his fingers moving swiftly across the screen.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Ordering something for your arm. There’s a specific antibiotic ointment that works better than regular pharmacy brands.”
I frowned. “That’s not necessary-”
“It’s done,” he said, putting his phone away. “It will be delivered to your office this afternoon, along with proper bandages.”
“Sebastian-”
“You need to clean the wound thoroughly,” he continued, ignoring my protest. “Apply the ointment three times daily and change the bandage each time. If you notice any increased redness or swelling, call me immediately.”
I stared at him, stunned by his authoritative care. “Are you always this bossy about minor injuries?”
A small smile played at the corner of his mouth. “Only for people who matter.”
The simple statement settled over me like a warm blanket. People who matter. When was the last time anyone had made me feel like I truly mattered? Not for what I could give them or how I could serve them, but just for being myself?
“The instructions will be included with the delivery,” Sebastian added, his voice softer now. “But promise me you’ll follow them.”
“I promise,” I said, unable to resist the genuine concern in his eyes.
He nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now finish your lunch. You need your strength.”
As I picked up my fork, I couldn’t help but marvel at the strange feeling blooming in my chest. It wasn’t just gratitude for his help, but something deeper-the novel sensation of being cared for without expectation, of having someone put my wellbeing first.
It was unfamiliar territory for me, this kindness without agenda. Alistair’s concern had always been conditional, my father’s nonexistent. Even Vera’s fierce protectiveness came with expectations of reciprocity.
122 THE KINDNESS SNE Never Knew
But Sebastian’s care felt different. Pure. Overwhelming in its simplicity.
And as he watched me eat with quiet attentiveness, occasionally reminding me to drink water, I realized I had no idea how to navigate this new landscape-a world where someone simply wanted me to be well, without asking for anything in return.
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