Dominique sat on the small couch in the corner of the hospital room, his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. He watched Hazel and Bella from across the room, his eyes narrowed and his heart heavy.

Hazel was holding Bella’s hand.

Hazel never held anyone’s hand. She was distant, guarded, and careful with her touch. But here she was, her fingers wrapped around Bella’s wrist, her eyes soft, and her body relaxed.

Dominique didn’t understand.

He had been there for her. He had followed her to a waterfall. He had carried her through the woods. He had introduced her to his mother, arranged her surgery, and sat in the waiting room for hours. And she had never looked at him the way she was looking at Bella.

What witchcraft did Isabella possess?

He watched Hazel blink at Bella, slow, trusting, almost childlike. Her bandaged face was turned toward Bella like a flower toward the sun.

Dominique’s eye twitched.

She looked like Leo. Not in appearance though. Hazel was nothing like Leo in appearance. But in behavior. In the way she had chosen one person and clung to them. Leo had Bella. Now Hazel had Bella too.

Dominique shuddered.

No. No, no, no. He needed to bleach his mind. His Hazel was not the same as Leo. She was different. She was warmer. She was holding Bella’s hand and looking at her like she was the center of the universe.

Dominique slumped deeper into the couch.

He was jealous. He could admit it. Not of Bella, because Bella was wonderful, sweet, and kind. He loved her like a sister. But he was jealous of the way Hazel looked at her. The way Hazel trusted her. The way Hazel let her in.

Dominique’s eyes drifted down to Hazel’s wrist.

The red snake tattoo was visible there, coiled around her skin, its tiny scales intricate and beautiful. He had always loved that tattoo. It suited her, graceful, dangerous, and unforgettable.

He traced the outline of it with his eyes, remembering the first time he had seen it. The first time he had noticed her.

His heart ached.

Bella said softly, adjusting Hazel’s blanket. "Sleep."

Hazel blinked once in agreement and closed her eyes.

Dominique sighed.

He was happy Hazel was recovering. He was happy she had someone she trusted. He just wished that someone was him.

He looked at the tattoo again.

Under the influence of the medication, Hazel’s eyes grew heavy. Her grip on Bella’s wrist loosened. Her breathing slowed. Her eyes fluttered closed.

She was asleep.

Bella waited a moment, making sure Hazel was truly gone, then carefully extracted her hand. She stood up, stretched her stiff shoulders, and walked toward the small couch in the corner of the room.

Dominique was sitting there, slumped, his arms crossed, and his expression dark.

He looked like a child who had been told he couldn’t have dessert.

Bella sat down beside him and leaned back with a tired sigh. Before she could say anything, Dominique turned to her, his eyes narrowed.

"Traitor friend," he whispered, his voice sharp. "You stole my girl."

Bella’s eyebrows shot up. She turned her head slowly to look at him, confusion written all over her face. "What?"

"You heard me." He pointed accusingly at the sleeping Hazel. "She was supposed to look at me like that. With the soft eyes. The trusting eyes. The ’please don’t leave me’ eyes."

Bella let out a quiet laugh and rolled her eyes. "She’s on medication, Dom. She doesn’t know what she’s doing."

"She knows exactly what she’s doing." Dominique’s voice was still sharp, but there was a pout forming on his lips. He crossed his arms tighter. "She chose you over me."

Bella turned to face him fully, a teasing smile playing on her lips. She fluttered her eyelashes cutely. "Because I am cute."

Dominique scoffed, though his pout remained. "So? I’m more charming."

Bella raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. "You’re more annoying."

Dominique gasped, placing a hand over his heart as if he had been wounded. "That’s hurtful. Truly hurtful. I am wounded, Bella. Wounded."

Bella put a finger to her lips and glanced at Hazel. "Shh. She’s sleeping."

Dominique glanced at Hazel, then back at Bella. His pout deepened. He lowered his voice to an indignant whisper. "I know. I’m not stupid."

Bella smirked. "You’re acting stupid."

Dominique leaned back into the couch with a dramatic sigh. "I’m acting wounded. There’s a difference."

Bella shook her head, but she was smiling. She reached over and patted his knee. "She likes you, Dom."

He turned to look at her, unconvinced. "She likes you more."

Bella sighed. "She doesn’t like me more. She just—"

"She chose you," he interrupted, his voice flat.

Bella softened. She looked at Hazel, then back at Dominique. "She just feels safe with me, Dom. That’s all."

Dominique’s face crumpled slightly. His voice came out smaller than before. "I want her to feel safe with me."

Bella nodded gently. "She does."

"Not like that," he whispered.

Bella was quiet for a moment. Then she reached over and patted his hand. "You’re a good friend, Dom. She knows that."

Dominique’s jaw tightened. "I don’t want to be a good friend."

Bella held his gaze. "Then stop pouting and be patient."

Dominique glared at her, but there was no real heat in it. He slumped further into the couch and muttered, "I hate it when you’re right."

Bella smiled. "I know."

Hazel stayed in the hospital for several days under observation. The doctors wanted to monitor her recovery, check for any signs of infection, and ensure that the skin grafts were healing properly. Every morning, nurses came to change her bandages, clean the wounds, and apply fresh ointment. Every evening, the cycle repeated.

Dominique’s mother, Kaelani, came each day to oversee the process. She was calm, professional, and reassuring. She spoke to Hazel in a low, gentle voice, explaining what she was doing, what Hazel could expect, and what signs to watch for.

On the third day, Kaelani removed the bandages completely.