Chapter 9 Rendering Help

Jameson's POV

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the cool sensation on my forehead. For a moment, I thought it was some weird dream.

But then I realized it wasn't a dream at all. Someone was dabbing my forehead with a damp towel.

My body tensed instantly.

I blinked, turning my head slightly, and there she was: Aria. Smiling down at me as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"Good morning," Her soft voice reached my ears. She was smiling.

It's starting to seem like that's her default setting. I brushed her hand away as I sat up.

"What are you doing?" My tone was sharper than I intended, but I was too groggy to soften it.

"You were sweating," she replied, as though it were obvious. "I thought I would help." She set the towel aside, brushing her hands together.

"We've got about ten hours left before we land in Italy. So, technically, good morning... or whatever time it is now."

I sat up straighter, "I didn't ask for your help," I muttered under my breath.

She didn't respond to that, only shrugged her shoulders. Then as if realizing something, she turned to me;

"Uhm... are you hungry now? I could help rewarm your leftovers. I noticed you didn't eat much." she pointed out.

"I can do that myself." I said curtly. I wanted to stretch my stiff bones, but it wasn't convenient.

And this reminded me that I'll be cripple for life. That feeling was about setting in. I tried to force it out of my thoughts, so I wheeled myself toward the bathroom to splash cold water on my face.

Halfway there, I stopped. My jaw tightened as I stared at the narrow door to the bathroom.

Will I be needing help there? The thought made my blood boil.

I clenched the armrests of the wheelchair, my fingers curling tightly around the edges. Why must I be reminded of my predicament?

"Damn it," I growled, slamming my palm against the armrest in frustration.

I didn't have my usual wheelchair here with the rotating seat that allows easy transfer to the toilet. This one was just a basic model with adjustable height.

"Are you okay?" Aria's voice came from behind me. I gritted my teeth, refusing to look at her.

"I'm fine," I said sharply, though my tone made it obvious I was anything but. As if understanding the situation, she didn't press further.

I wheeled back to my seat. Then she began arranging her things before she stood up and headed to the bathroom's direction. Taking the small bowl of water and the towel she'd been using with her too.

The door opened and closed behind me, the sound as if mocking me. I exhaled, trying to gather my thoughts.

When she returned, it was longer than I had expected. I glanced over, noticing her damp hair and fresh clothes. She must've just taken a shower.

"Must be nice," I didn't realize the words had rolled out of my mouth.

"What's nice?" she asked, tilting her head with her brows furrowing slightly.

"Nothing." I said quickly, looking away.

"You can tell me anything you know." She said, walking past me and sank in her seat. Yet, I said nothing.

I don't need to be babysit or taken care of by someone I barely know.

Moments later, she handed me a novel. "Here. This might help pass time," she said in a light tone.

I glanced at the book but didn't bother reaching for it. She settled the book down and adjusted in her seat.

"Let me know if you need me help with anything," she said nonchalantly as she opened the book in her hand casually.

Something in me snapped at her words. I jerked my head toward her.

"What do you mean by that?" Her expression faltered after turning to me upon hearing my voice.

"You seemed tense and..." she was saying before she shook her head, "Never mind. If you don't need my help or the book, it's better that way."

And just like that, she pulled her legs up onto her seat, slipped on a pair of ridiculous magnifying glasses, and opened her novel.

She didn't look at me again, completely absorbed in whatever she was reading.

Something doesn't feel right, like she wasn't pestering or asking many questions. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. I couldn't wait to get to get off this plane.

My parents were insane for thinking this was a good idea, pushing us to celebrate a goddamn honeymoon I didn't want with a wife I barely knew.