After the Shahis left, Seven gave James a sponge bath. He ran a damp cloth over James’s skin, each stroke steady and unhurried, the motion soothing to his patient. The rhythmic task brought a strange kind of calm, as though Seven sought refuge in its repetition. But in the stillness of the room, his thoughts betrayed him.

  Harper Lange.

  The name echoed in his mind, tugging at him with a pull he couldn’t shake. It wasn’t his place to feel this way, yet his chest tightened at the thought that Sana might be involved with someone else.

  When he finished with James, he turned to Sana. “You should freshen up before I change your dressing,” he said gently.

  She nodded, and he fetched the transfer chair. Helping her settle in, he was mindful of her injured shoulder. In the bathroom, he gave her privacy but stayed close enough to support her when needed. The simple routine of washing up and brushing her teeth felt oddly intimate, charged with quiet restraint.

  When she was done, he wheeled her back to the bed, drew the curtain around them, and began preparing the fresh dressing. His focus was clinical and precise, but beneath that composed exterior simmered the unspoken questions clawing at his gut.

  As he peeled back the old gauze and replaced it with clean bandages, he blurted out, “Sana, are you seeing the architect?”

  The words hung in the air, unguarded, raw, and edged with something far more personal than he intended.

  Sana blinked, confusion flickering across her face. It was a simple question, yet she seemed momentarily lost, until realization dawned.

  “Harps?” she chirped, batting her lashes playfully. “Well, I can’t deny that Harps is gorgeous. If I swung that way, I’d have made my move already.”

  The admission hit Seven like a cold splash of water. The tips of his ears turned crimson, taken aback by the twist, and he shifted awkwardly. “I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

  Her laughter, light and melodic, echoed softly. Tilting her head, she smirked at his flustered state. “Chill. It’s just funny you thought Harps and I were…” she trailed off, letting the silence speak for her.

  Then, almost abruptly, she asked, “Speaking of names, why did your father give you such an unusual one?”

  Seven drew a slow breath, his focus drifting somewhere distant, as if combing through old fragments of memory.

  “It wasn’t my father,” he murmured. “I was abandoned at an orphanage the day I was born. The staff named us the day we were left there.” A faint, detached smile ghosted across his lips. “That’s how I got Seven. When my father adopted me, he offered to change it, but… I didn’t see the point.”

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  Sana froze; the light in her eyes dimmed as the weight of his past settled over her. Her posture sagged, as though she carried a piece of that burden herself. “I’m sorry, Seven. I—”

  Before she could finish, he cut in gently. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t leave me out in the blistering cold.”

  The gravity of his words lingered between them, and for a moment, neither spoke. Sana pivoted, eager to steer away from the emotional minefield. “What month were you born in?”

  “February,” he hummed, grateful for the shift and the escape from darker memories.

  “Really? No way!” she brightened instantly. “I’m a February baby too, born on the 21st!”

  Her enthusiasm was infectious, coaxing a rare smile from him.

  “Oh! And what a coincidence,” she chirped, eyes twinkling. “We’re exactly one week apart from Valentine’s Day!”

  Seven frowned slightly. “What’s so special about that day?”

  Sana stared at him, genuinely taken aback. “You don’t know what Valentine’s Day is?”

  He shook his head, his lips curling into a sheepish grin. “Nope. Why don’t you tell me?”

  With theatrical flair, she launched into an impromptu history lesson. “In the eighth century, it started as a Christian feast day in honor of Saint Valentine, a martyr. By the 14th century, people noticed that February marked the mating season for birds, so it became a symbol of romantic love, eventually turning into a day for lovebirds—literally!”

  Seven listened, his expression softening with faint amusement. When she finished, his voice, low and intimate, broke the lull that followed. “So, does that mean we have a love connection?”

  Her pulse skipped, but she steadied herself, finally summoning the courage to say what she had wanted to for so long. “Seven, I have something to… confess.”

  His attention sharpened, the air suddenly taut with anticipation. “What is it?”

  Her breath caught, but she pushed through. “I’ve been crushing on someone… for the past five years.”

  Seven froze. A trace of hurt crossed his face before he could mask it. “I see… does he know how you feel?”

  Sana’s gaze held his, unwavering. “I just told him.”

  Boom!

  The revelation slammed into him. His heart hammered in his chest as the truth sank in. “Sana,” he rasped, emotion catching in his throat, “I’m not worthy of you.”

  Sana stiffened, anxiety flashing through her. “Why would you say that?”

  He exhaled, his thoughts spilling before he could stop them. “I’m just an orphan. You’re the daughter of a prominent family. And I’ve got nothing to offer. You deserve better.”

  She shook her head, fighting to rein in her emotions. “You don’t understand. My family’s love is unconditional. They would respect my choice.”

  Despite her assurance, skepticism shadowed his features. “Would your parents let their precious daughter marry down?”

  Sana’s eyes shone with conviction as she countered, “Knowing my parents, it’s not about marrying up or down. They’d care about who you are, not what you have.”

  Seeing his lingering doubt, she added, “Seven, I turned down every suitor before because… they weren’t you. And my parents would never stand in the way of my happiness. They certainly wouldn’t think you’ve got nothing to offer, especially after you saved their daughter’s life.”

  Seven’s breath hitched, her confession piercing through his defenses. He had spent years with his walls up, convinced he wasn’t deserving of love, and now here she was, offering him the very thing he had always longed for but feared to claim.

  For the first time, he wondered if he was allowed to want something for himself, and if he dared to take it.

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