I Only Needed Your Face

Alban arrived at the house early the next morning. He barely glanced at Eliza before getting straight to the point. "Your chicken soup is good, right?"

She had not even opened her mouth when he continued, impatience sharpening his tone, "Vina wants some. Make it now and come with me to deliver it."

Eliza lifted her gaze, ready to refuse. Her eyes fell on the watch at his wrist, and she reconsidered. "Fine. I'll make it the way she likes it. But I want your watch."

Alban did not hesitate. He removed it and set it on the table in front of her. "Take it."

This was nothing new. He often sent her on errands for Davina. Sometimes, she booked flights so he could visit her. Sometimes, she stood in line for hours to buy the snacks Davina liked. Other times, he had her choose gifts on his behalf.

Eliza never refused. She only asked for payment. She never asked for money. Instead, she chose items he had used for years: a fountain pen, a watch, sometimes a book. None of them held much monetary value. They were simply familiar objects he kept close.

Alban watched her tuck the watch away as if it were a treasure. At last, he asked, "Do you really love me that much? Do you want to keep everything I've ever touched?"

Eliza paused. She knew he had misunderstood. Everything she asked for had once belonged to Kyran.

After Kyran died, Alban gathered his brother's belongings. He carried some of them out of habit, perhaps out of remembrance. Eliza collected them for the same reason. She wanted something to remember him by.

She offered no explanation. She simply smiled.

"Yes," she said softly. "I really love you…"

'Your brother,' she continued inwardly.

Something in her eyes unsettled Alban.

A flicker of unease crossed his mind. Images surfaced of everything she had done for him over the years. The thought unsettled him. His brow tightened before he forced himself back to composure.

His expression cooled. "Hurry up and make the soup."

Once she finished, they left for the hospital together.

In the car, Alban recalled her call from the day before. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about yesterday?"

Eliza cradled the thermos in her lap and looked out the window. "Nothing important. I already handled it."

He gave a brief acknowledgement. "Vina's been hospitalized with a cold. I'll be taking care of her. Don't bother me with unnecessary things."

Eliza nodded obediently. No trace of displeasure crossed her face.

Alban studied her profile. Over the years, she had never pushed back against anything he asked. Not once.

Did she really love him that much? Enough to watch him treat another woman this way and remain calm?

…

They entered Davina's room together.

Davina froze at the sight of Eliza. "I was just joking yesterday. I didn't think you'd actually bring her here!"

Eliza set the thermos down and poured the soup into a bowl. Her voice remained even. "When you mention something, he takes it seriously."

Alban stiffened at her words. Instead of satisfaction, an inexplicable discomfort settled in his chest.

He stood, took the bowl from her hands, and said flatly, "You can head back. I've got this."

Eliza did not respond. She picked up her bag and turned toward the door. As she closed it, she caught a final glimpse of Alban holding the bowl and feeding Davina with careful attention.

"Slow down," he murmured. "It's hot. I also bought you the cakes you like."

Davina's eyes lit up. "They're three blocks away! You actually went to get them?"

Eliza shut the door behind her and did not look back.