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Belly Conklin swam through the cool water of the pool, the ripples gently pushing her along as she focused on her breathing. The late afternoon sun cast a golden hue across the water, the heat of the summer still clinging to the air. Conrad had promised to meet her by the pool, and she couldn’t help but smile, knowing he would probably show up later, like always—cool, composed, and a little distant.
It had been like that for weeks now. The tension between them, the way he would look at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, made her heart race. But Conrad was still Conrad—aloof, serious, hiding his emotions behind that layer of cool detachment. Belly wasn’t sure how to read him anymore. But she was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, he was starting to feel something more for her too.
She dunked her head under the water, letting the coolness engulf her, as if to escape the hot swirl of emotions. As she pushed herself back up to the surface, her hand slipped along the edge of the pool, her foot kicking off to swim a few laps. But something went wrong—her foot caught on the slick pool bottom. Her balance shifted, and before she could catch herself, her head slammed into the hard edge of the pool.
The pain shot through her skull, a sharp, blinding throb that left her breathless. She barely registered the sensation of her body going limp, her hands flailing out in a desperate attempt to grab hold of something, anything, to stop herself from sinking.
But the world around her blurred, and the water seemed to drag her under.
Conrad walked out onto the deck, his eyes scanning the area. He had been distracted by his own thoughts and hadn’t noticed Belly in the pool at first. He was supposed to meet her—he didn’t want to, but part of him knew he couldn’t stay away. And there she was, swimming gracefully through the water like she always did, but then something changed.
One moment, she was gliding along the surface, and the next, she was underwater, floating strangely still. His heart leapt into his throat, and a cold fear shot through him. He called her name, but there was no answer. Panic surged through him as he bolted toward the edge of the pool.
"Belly!" he shouted, voice thick with worry. He dove into the water without thinking, his body slicing through the pool until he reached her.
Her face was pale, her body unnaturally limp. Blood trickled from a gash on her forehead, staining the water red. His stomach churned, and his chest tightened with panic. Conrad grabbed her, pulling her toward the edge, his movements desperate and frantic. His hands shook as he lifted her out of the water, his mind screaming for her to wake up, to move.
"Belly, please!" He placed his hand gently against her head, the blood sticky and warm against his skin.
He didn't know what to do. He’d never felt so out of control before. This wasn't a game anymore. This wasn’t just teasing or awkward silences. This was real. She was hurt, and he was terrified.
He dragged her to the poolside, his heart pounding, hands trembling as he checked her pulse—slow, but steady. But the blood… the blood kept coming, staining her skin and his hands, and all he could think about was how fragile she looked in that moment. He’d always seen her as this strong, independent girl who could handle anything, but now… now she looked so small, so helpless, lying there with a pool of blood around her.
Conrad’s breath hitched in his chest, and he knew he couldn’t just sit there. He had to do something. He pulled off his shirt and pressed it to her wound, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to stop the horror from sinking deeper inside him. He could barely hear his thoughts over the rush of panic that flooded his mind.
He needed to get her help.
But then, Belly’s eyes fluttered open, just a little.
Her voice was weak, barely a whisper. "Conrad?"
His heart nearly stopped in his chest. "Belly, stay with me, okay?" His voice was strained, thick with emotion he couldn’t contain. "You’re gonna be fine. Just stay awake for me."
She blinked up at him, confused, disoriented, and as her gaze met his, something shifted in his chest. His heart softened, even as his mind raced through a thousand questions. Why was she so stubborn? Why did she always put herself in dangerous situations like this? But right now, none of that mattered.
Right now, all that mattered was her.
Belly’s breath was shaky, her hand reaching out, brushing against his arm weakly. She tried to sit up but winced in pain. Conrad quickly pulled her back down, hovering over her as his fingers brushed through her damp hair.
"Don’t try to get up. You’re hurt, Belly. Just… just stay still," he said, his voice low and soothing despite the panic swirling in his chest. His eyes scanned her face, memorising every detail, every breath. He had never felt so protective of her before—never this scared.
Belly’s eyes drooped again, and he could see the exhaustion in them, but she fought to stay awake. "I’m okay, Conrad," she murmured, though her voice trembled with the effort. "Just a bump."
"Don’t say that," Conrad whispered, his hand gently brushing her cheek. "You’re not okay. You’re hurt, Belly. You have to promise me you won’t try to push through this. You’re not invincible."
Belly smiled faintly, her hand gripping his wrist weakly. "I know… I know."
Belly’s skin was cold against Conrad’s touch, the water still dripping from her hair and down her back, but he couldn’t think about that now. His mind raced with one singular focus: keeping her alive, keeping her awake. Every beat of his heart felt heavier, as though the weight of his emotions was drowning him, threatening to pull him under with her. But he refused to let that happen. Not now. Not with her.
He gently adjusted his grip on her, trying to keep her from moving too much. "Belly," he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked down at her, trying to steady his breathing. "You need to stay still. I’m gonna get you inside, okay? Just don’t move."
She nodded weakly, her eyes barely open, her lips pale. The blood from her forehead wound had slowed, but it still stained the edges of her damp hair and dripped down her temple. The sight made his stomach turn. He quickly stripped off his shirt, pressing it to her wound, and then he scooped her up into his arms. The weight of her in his arms felt so light, and yet so heavy at the same time, as though every step he took was another step away from a nightmare he wasn’t sure he could survive.
He moved quickly, but carefully, walking with her toward the house. His mind was a blur, every second dragging on for what felt like an eternity as he crossed the patio and kicked open the door with his foot. It slammed shut behind him, the cool air inside offering some relief from the suffocating heat outside.
"Belly, you with me?" Conrad’s voice cracked as he looked down at her. Her eyes were barely open, but she managed a small nod.
"Yeah," she whispered weakly, "I’m here."
Conrad carried her toward the living room couch, sitting her down gently. He was trying to keep it together, but his heart was pounding in his chest, and his hands were shaking. He didn’t know what to do. His mind raced through all the things he should have done. Should he have gotten her out of the pool faster? Should he have noticed something was wrong sooner?
"Okay, okay…" Conrad breathed out, trying to calm himself. "Let’s get this cleaned up."
He stood for a moment, pacing in the small space between the couch and the front door. His breath was shallow, his body tense as he looked at her—so vulnerable, so fragile in her weakened state. He couldn’t keep his hands from trembling as he reached for the nearest towel, soaking it in cold water and dabbing it gently along her forehead. The blood had clotted slightly, but there was still a faint trickle down her temple.
Belly winced slightly as he pressed the cool cloth to the cut. "Sorry," Conrad muttered, his voice thick with guilt, as if he could somehow apologise for the accident that had occurred. "I know it hurts."
"It’s okay," she murmured, her voice hoarse, but there was no hiding the tremble in it. "I’ll be fine."
He stared at her for a moment, his expression softening despite the fear that was still clawing at him. The cut was deep enough to be worrying, but it didn’t seem life-threatening. But seeing her like this—seeing her hurt—was something Conrad was unprepared for. It made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t understand.
After a few moments, he went to the kitchen, his hands working quickly, trying to put together everything she might need. He grabbed the first aid kit, pulling out a fresh bandage and some antiseptic wipes. He returned to the living room, kneeling in front of her.
"Belly," he said, more firmly this time. "You need to sit up for me, okay? Just for a second."
She nodded, still groggy but cooperating as he helped her sit upright, his hands steadying her shoulders. He gently moved the towel away from her forehead and began to wipe away the dried blood. The sight of it made his heart skip a beat, and he quickly averted his gaze, focusing entirely on cleaning the wound. The antiseptic stung when it touched her skin, and Belly winced again, but Conrad was there—his touch firm, reassuring.
"It’s gonna be okay," he whispered again, almost to himself more than her.
Belly gave him a weak smile, the edges of her lips trembling. "You’re really overreacting, you know?"
Conrad scoffed softly, shaking his head as he finished cleaning the gash. "You hit your head and bled all over the place. I’m not overreacting, Belly."
He grabbed the bandage and carefully wrapped it around her forehead, securing it in place. He worked quickly, but with tenderness, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin as he adjusted the bandage. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at her—at how pale she was, at how vulnerable she seemed, even as she tried to act like everything was fine.
"Conrad," she murmured after a few moments, her voice barely audible. "I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out."
He froze, his hands still hovering over her wound. The sincerity in her voice hit him harder than he expected. The guilt, the shame—it was all there, and it wasn’t fair. She was the one who had been hurt, and yet she felt the need to apologise to him.
"Don’t apologise," Conrad said quickly, his voice firm. He finally met her gaze, his eyes intense, filled with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. "I care about you, Belly. I don’t want to see you hurt. Ever."
She stared at him for a long moment, and something passed between them—something unspoken, something that neither of them was ready to voice. But Conrad knew in that moment that things between them had changed. He couldn’t look at her the same way anymore—not after this. Not after seeing her so vulnerable, so fragile in his arms.
He placed a hand on her shoulder, his fingers lingering for a moment, offering her a quiet comfort. "You should rest, okay? Don’t move too much. I’ll be here."
Belly nodded again, her eyelids fluttering as exhaustion started to overtake her. Conrad settled next to her, his body tense as he watched over her, still processing everything that had happened. His protective instincts were on high alert, and he knew that nothing would ever be the same between them—not now.
As she finally drifted into a light sleep, Conrad remained awake, his eyes glued to her. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not until he knew she was okay.