Chapter 50

Daimon, however, didn’t move. Instead, he settled into the chair beside her bed, his expression unreadable. "That’s not a problem. Right now, your recovery is the priority. I’ll handle things myself." Enlyan frowned slightly. "What do you mean?" Daimon picked up the bowl of chicken soup he had brought earlier, his tone firm yet gentle. "It means I’ll take care of you. So before you rest, drink this. It’s good for your health. No matter how much you may dislike me, you still need to take care of your body, right?" He lifted the bowl toward her, the rich aroma of the soup filling the air. The moment the scent hit her, Enlyan’s stomach churned. A wave of nausea surged through her, and she instinctively turned away, retching. Alarm flashed in Daimon’s eyes as he quickly set the bowl aside and reached for her. "What’s wrong?" His warm hand gently patted her back, his concern evident. Enlyan took a shaky breath, pressing a hand over her nose. "Take it away," she murmured, unable to stand the