#14. Daily Life (2)
Thanks to Sasha, who pulled his blanket off early every morning, Pavel had become a morning person.
Whenever he refused to touch the food he disliked, Sasha would scoop it herself and press the spoon against his lips.
Even when he asked to be left alone, she would take his hand and lead him outside to exercise.
So this time would be no different.
If he kept resisting, it wouldn’t end well.
Sasha would simply get up, snatch the spoon from his hand, load it with soup, and shove it into his mouth.
‘If that’s how it’s going to be, I’d rather just eat it myself.’
With a deep sigh, Pavel put the spoon in his mouth.
He swallowed it without breathing, but the taste of broccoli lingered on his tongue.
“Ugh.”
He had no trouble taking bitter medicine, but broccoli—that, he couldn’t handle.
He gulped down water to wash out the nauseating flavor.
“……”
Pavel moved like a sloth.
It felt like an eternity just to bring another spoonful to his mouth.
His body language screamed reluctance.
“Hm.”
Sasha stared at him and commented,
“Pavel, you’re a picky eater, huh?”
“……!”
Pavel glared at her with wide eyes.
He hated being treated like a child, and the word “picky eater” felt unbearably childish to him.
Sasha giggled inside but kept her expression serious.
“Still a kid, huh? Don’t like bell peppers, don’t like carrots, and now even broccoli?”
“Shut up.”
“Wow, even when I was a kid, I wasn’t that picky. So that means you’re even younger than a kid… You’re a baby. Yep, Baby Pavel.”
The more Sasha teased, the more Pavel’s face scrunched up.
“Ugh…!”
He looked absolutely furious.
But instead of swearing like he used to, Pavel clenched his lips and bowed his head.
Then, with a determined expression, he began eating the soup aggressively.
When he finally finished, he set the spoon down with a thud.
“…I ate it all. Happy now?”
“Got it.”
Sasha quickly replied, smiling sweetly—though she mentally added,
‘We’ll need to add table manners to the curriculum too.’
Luckily for Pavel, the broccoli soup was the hardest part of the meal.
The rest wasn’t so bad, and he finished quietly.
Sasha watched, pleased.
She looked forward to the day Pavel would fill out with some healthy weight.
✦✦✦
“Pavel, did you brush your teeth?”
As soon as Sasha entered his room, she asked.
Knowing she’d drag him to the bathroom if he didn’t answer, Pavel gave a tired nod.
“Good. Then let’s sleep. Sleeping early helps you grow taller, clears your skin, improves memory—basically, it’s all good.”
She tucked him into bed, pulling the blanket up to his chin.
Then she lay down beside him where he could see her.
Sasha had started sleeping beside him after learning he had severe insomnia.
She believed his weakened state was partly from chronic lack of sleep.
Since rest was the best medicine, Sasha tried everything to help him sleep.
Sometimes she told fun stories from her past life. Other times she sang lullabies.
Pavel would grumble that it was childish, but he always listened quietly.
Though it took time to fall asleep, once he did, a soft smile would appear on his face.
Seeing that peaceful expression made Sasha forget all about her sore throat from talking so much each night.
There was one thing she never skipped.
“Hand.”
“……”
Pavel silently placed his hand in hers.
Their fingers intertwined tightly.
At first, Pavel recoiled from the contact, but eventually, he got used to it and accepted her presence.
Sasha was proud.
She believed warmth and touch were the best ways to connect emotionally.
She always held hands during important conversations, and this nightly ritual had the same purpose.
Ever since their first night sharing a bed, not once had she failed to hold his hand.
“Good night,” Sasha whispered.
Pavel didn’t answer, but his fluttering eyelashes gave him away—he wasn’t asleep yet.
Still, Sasha didn’t scold him.
She just began to sing gently, hoping it would carry him off into dreamland.
Hopefully peaceful, happy dreams—not nightmares about death.
✦✦✦
Late at night, Pavel opened his eyes.
It wasn’t surprising—he was used to waking from shallow sleep.
Since learning of his illness at age five, he had never truly slept deeply.
The pain would visit anytime—day, night, even during the stillest hours of dawn.
Tonight was no exception.
“……!”
Pavel gritted his teeth.
It felt like large needles were stabbing his whole body.
His head felt crushed by stones. His eyes felt like they would pop out.
“Ugh…”
Instead of screaming, he bit back a whimper.
Crying out wouldn’t change anything.
All it would earn him were contemptuous stares from annoyed adults.
So he stayed silent, and learned to endure alone.
That kind of soul-deep loneliness had become as familiar as the pain.
It was all routine to him—until tonight.
“Mm…”
A faint stir from beside him made his eyelids twitch.
He rolled his body slightly.
Something felt off.
“……”
He stared at the white hand tightly holding his own.
His gaze shifted sideways.
There she was.
A small girl sleeping beside him.
Moonlight streamed in through the half-open curtain and spilled across the bed.
He could see Sasha’s face clearly—peaceful and serene in her sleep.
“Click.”
Pavel clicked his tongue.
Her annoyingly pretty face didn’t sit right with him.
‘Aleksandra Arban.’
Technically, she was now Aleksandra Volkov, but he still wasn’t used to that name.
He never expected to have a wife—let alone a Volkov one.
His father and uncle, both widowed early, had never remarried. He assumed he’d be the same.
And yet…
There she was—this woman who had become Aleksandra Volkov, though the name Arban still suited her better.
Even her name, soft in both script and sound, matched her appearance.
Her gentle smile, always intact no matter how curt he was, also came to mind.
That thought annoyed him.
‘Get a grip, Pavel Volkov.’
He stared at her.
She meddled constantly—he should be furious just looking at her.
So why did this strange, warm feeling well up inside him?
He frowned.
Grinding his teeth, he thought:
There was one thing he had to make clear.
He did not like this woman, Aleksandra Arban.
She was just a hollow bride, bought with money by a cold-hearted father trying to get rid of him.
She wasn’t even obedient—always argued back, treated him like a child, annoyed him all day.
She barged into his quiet life and turned it upside down.
There was absolutely nothing about her to like.
So then why… was he letting her do all this?
He could’ve pushed her away.
Yelled, fought, thrown a tantrum.
But he hadn’t.
Lying there, frowning in thought, Pavel watched her sleeping face in the moonlight.
He recalled everything: their conversations, the way she looked at him…
And he realized.
He wasn’t able to treat Sasha the way he treated everyone else.
Because she was different.
Before his behavior ever changed—she treated him differently.
Everyone else either pitied and ignored him or mocked him.
They called him the poor, doomed heir of House Volkov.
Their cheap sympathy only enraged him.
He wanted to destroy everything.
The smug nobles, the useless doctors, the cursed world that wouldn’t let him grow up.
But with her—
Her pure eyes calmed him.
She pitied his pain, not him.
It wasn’t sympathy. It was concern.
The moment he realized that, he couldn’t push her away anymore.
She barged into his room…
Restructured his life…
Crawled into his bed and sang lullabies only a long-forgotten mother might’ve sung…
And always—always—reached out to touch him.
And Pavel couldn’t bring himself to shove her away.
Even when her presence resurfaced memories he wanted to forget.
Even if everything she did annoyed him—
He couldn’t reject her, simply because… it was Sasha.
