Page 32 of Crowned

After a moment, I shift slightly, feeling the discomfort of lying in bed for so long. “I feel so grimy. Can I have a shower?”

Cove shakes his head gently. “The doctor needs to check you out first, make sure everything’s alright.”

I sigh, knowing he’s right but still longing for the simple comfort of hot water. “Alright, but as soon as I get the all-clear, I’m heading straight for the shower.”

Bhodi chuckles. “We’ll make sure it’s ready for you.”

As they continue to fuss over me, I realise just how lucky I am to have them. Despite the confusion and the pain, their love and support give me the strength to face whatever comes next.

The queen’s words ring in my ears, but the danger, the threat, has to take a backseat. I’m not doing this without Vance by my side. I don’t believe he’s any more dead than I was. And my priority is to find him and bring him back to us.

The door opens quietly, and a middle-aged doctor enters, her expression a mix of professionalism and relief. She checks my vitals, asks me a series of questions to assess my cognitive function, and eventually pronounces me stable.

“You seem to be recovering well,” she says with a reassuring smile. “I’ll schedule a few more tests just to be thorough, but you’re out of immediate danger.”

I nod gratefully, eager to get moving. “Can I take a shower now?”

The doctor hesitates for a moment, exchanging a glance with Bhodi, Cove, and Reef. “Yes, but take it easy. Don’t overexert yourself.”

As she leaves, Bhodi, Cove, and Reef immediately spring into action, helping me out of bed and steadying me as I stand. My legs feel like jelly, weak from so much immobility. Cove wraps an arm around my waist, his touch steady and supportive, but Bhodi barges him out of the way and sweeps me up into his strong arms instead.

“Hey!” Cove protests, but Bhodi levels him with a glare.

“She died. Came back to life. Was in a coma for weeks and you’re just letting her walk?” He growls. “Over my dead body!”

“I can walk,” I protest but Reef shakes his head.

“Easy does it, Malia,” he murmurs, leading the way towards the en-suite bathroom.

Inside, Cove adjusts the water temperature, making sure it’s just right. “We’ve got you,” he assures me, his voice soft with concern.

Reef stands by the door, keeping watch like a silent sentinel. His presence is as reassuring as when he was my ‘doctor’, a reminder that I’m not alone in this craziness. I just need to find the right time to confide in them.

Bhodi carefully places me down onto the plastic seat that Cove’s moved under the shower spray and my hospital gown is immediately soaked through, the material clinging to my skin and making me cringe.

“What’s wrong?” Reef asks, noticing my discomfort immediately.

“The gown. I need it off.”

With their help, the sodden gown is removed and thrown into the corners of the wet room, and I sigh, feeling the warm water cascade over me, washing away the hospital smell and the lingering fear. Bhodi stays close, handing me shampoo and soap, while Cove adjusts the showerhead to my liking.

“You’re doing great,” Bhodi murmurs, his hands gentle as he helps me wash my hair. I expected it to be a knotted bird’s nest, but it isn’t. Someone has been taking care of me while I’ve been unconscious.

“Thank you,” I whisper, overwhelmed by their care.

After what feels like both an eternity and a fleeting moment, I emerge from the shower, feeling cleaner and more refreshed than I have in weeks. Cove wraps a fluffy towel around me, and Bhodi carries me back to bed, tucking me in with the same tenderness they’ve shown since I woke up.

As I settle back into bed, warmth and fatigue wash over me, Bhodi, Cove, and Reef gather around. A nurse brings a tray of food – soup, sandwiches, and fresh fruit – carefully placing it on the bedside table.

I just want to sleep.

“You need to eat,” Bhodi insists gently, passing me a bowl of soup.

Cove hands me a glass of water, his eyes soft with concern. “It’s important to regain your strength.”

Reef stays quiet but nods in agreement, his expression showing relief that I’m awake and recovering.

I manage a small smile, touched by their thoughtfulness. I guess I can manage some soup. Not the fruit though. I’m so sick of fruit and olives and nuts.

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