Chapter 11

A week had passed.
Christin had grown steadier—yet heavier with shame. He was afraid to see Austin, his guilt was pressing on his chest.

He had been informed that Austin had suffered moderate swelling and bruising around the neck, along with respiratory complications. Austin was scheduled to be discharged today.

Christin’s heart raced. He hadn’t stepped outside his room for the entire week. Andrei hadn’t allowed anyone in. Somehow, news of Austin’s injury on set had leaked to the media, though the cause remained unknown. As always, Andrei shielded Christin—and the film—from any fallout.

Suddenly, voices echoed in the hallway.

Christin’s breath caught. How am I supposed to face him?

Andrei had gone earlier to receive Austin at the entrance. Now, Christin was alone. There was no one to hide behind.

A soft knock came at the door.

“Christin,” Andrei called gently. “Open the door.”

Christin couldn’t respond. His feet felt rooted to the floor.

Another knock—firmer this time.

Christin remained frozen.

“Christin,” Andrei said again, “Open the door. Right now.”

The doorknob turned. The door opened just enough for Andrei to step inside. Christin had no choice but to open it fully.

His head hung low. He couldn’t bring himself to look up.

As Andrei entered, Christin shifted closer to him without thinking, his fingers catching briefly in the sleeve of Andrei’s shirt.

Austin stepped inside.

He took in the sight of Christin—curled inward, ashamed, trembling—not as someone dangerous, but as someone terrified of himself.

Austin had never blamed Christin for what happened.

Approaching him had been his own decision. He had known how frightened Christin was of being approached. And now, Austin carried his own guilt as well. He could still vividly remember Christin lashing out at him.

Andrei sensed the tension immediately.

“Mr. Ivanov,” he said quietly, “no matter how many times I apologize, it will never be enough. You’ve spent time with Christin—you know him, at least to some extent.”

“Christin,” Andrei said softly, lowering his voice, “look at me… you need to learn how to fix problems… don’t run away from them”

Christin hesitated, then slowly lifted his head. Austin stood at a distance. His eyes fell to the yellow-green bruises along Austin’s neck, still healing. When Christin finally looked up, their eyes met.

Austin remained silent. He wanted Christin to speak first—to say it himself, that the hatred had never been meant for him.

Andrei gently patted his back, grounding him.

“Austin…” Christin finally whispered.

Austin’s chest tightened.

“I’m sorry,” Christin said, forcing the words out. “For what I did. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I… I mistook you for someone else.”

“You finally spoke,” Austin replied softly, a faint smile touching his lips. “I know you didn’t mean it.” His voice strained as he continued, “I know—at least a little—what you might have had gone through in the past. You were strong enough to bring it to the court—”

He stopped, pain tightening his throat.

Tears welled in Christin’s eyes as the consequences of his actions became painfully real. How am I any different from her? The thought struck him hard.

Austin noticed Christin breaking— drowning in guilt. He reached into his bag and took his medication.

Watching closely, Andrei felt something shift. Austin’s concern wasn’t professional- It seemed personal.

Maybe he’s just trying to calm him, Andrei told himself. Still, he decided to test it.

“Christin,” Andrei said gently, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Austin’s gaze immediately flicked to Andrei’s hand. Discomfort flared—unexpected, sharp. He didn’t yet understand why.

Andrei turned Christin toward him. “You need to be strong, be responsible…,” he said softly, then he pulled him into a firm embrace. “You started this. You see it through.”

Christin clung to him.

Austin’s expression hardened.

There it is, Andrei thought grimly. This isn’t just professional concern..

He pulled back, masking his irritation with a smile. “Recover quickly,” he said, glancing between them. “Finish this movie properly”

“If anything happens, call me. I’m always a call away.”

He passed Austin.

Austin offered a professional smile. “You care deeply for your friend, Mr. Singh.”

Andrei returned the smile—equally empty. “Of course. I’m his only family here. We live together. I know him better than anyone.”

His wounds are healing too quickly, Andrei’s smile turned grim. The discovery left him deeply disturbed.

Andrei left the room, and Austin finally eased up, still confused by the unpleasant feeling Andrei left behind. Maybe that’s his actual personality, Austin tried to justify the uneasy feelings.

Austin turned around. Christin was still standing.

“Can I help you with anything?” Christin asked. He slowly looked up and found Austin looking a little upset—understandably so, given the harm he had inflicted.

Austin looked at Christin, likely overthinking. “My neck hurts. I want to get changed—I smell like disinfectant.” He tried to redirect Christin’s attention. “Hmm,” he added dramatically, “I was told to avoid hot food. Could you order something cold for me?” His voice was strained.

“Ice cream?” Christin spoke up immediately.

Austin instantly regretted the idea. Slightly awkward, he tried to suggest something else. “Watermelon sherbet, perhaps,” he winced as pain flared in his throat.

“Austin?” Christin grew worried. He stepped closer wanting to help.

Austin flinched and stepped back.

Christin froze.  
He was no longer just a victim—he was someone others feared. He looked up at Austin.

Austin hadn’t meant to hurt him. The step back had been instinctive. “Christin, let’s take it easy…” he sighed, pulling out an ice pack and placing it in the freezer. He then went to the bathroom to change.

Christin still stood there in disbelief.
He ordered the sherbet and sat on the edge of his bed, then slowly slid down to the floor, crouching. His expression darkened as despair settled in. Tears rolled down.

Lately, all I’ve done is cry, he criticized himself bitterly, I need to change.

Austin came out of the bathroom and scanned the room for Christin. When he saw him crouched on the floor, his expression softened.

“May I?” Austin asked gently.

Lost in his thoughts, Christin didn’t register Austin approaching. He nodded.

Austin crouched down about a meter away, resting his back against Christin’s bed. He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “I’m tired.”

“Then lie down on the bed,” Christin said quietly. “Your sherbet should be arriving any moment now.”

“How can I lie down when you’re sitting on the floor?” Austin asked softly.

Christin’s nose was red, his eyes watery—he has cried again. Austin noticed. He gently rested his head against the edge of the bed and looked up at him.

Something fluttered in Christin’s chest. Austin looked warm—gentle—in that moment.

Ding, dong.

The doorbell rang.

Christin stood up—trying to take initiative because Austin was still recovering. He opened the door.

The server froze. He had expected either the turbaned man or the infamous villain to answer. The Russian Paradox was known for never opening doors himself. It was a strange day—especially since the order had been placed by Christin as well.

“Um, sir…” the server stammered.

Christin took a deep breath. “Thank you,” he blurted out, grabbed the tray, and shut the door quickly.

The server stood there, stunned, trying to process what had just happened.

Christin hurried to the dining table with the sherbet and pulled out a chair.
“Austin,” he called softly, “it’s here.”

Austin had been watching Christin the entire time.

This is bad, he thought. It’s far too amusing to watch him. This could become a habit.

He smiled gently and sat down. Christin took the opposite chair, waiting quietly as Austin ate.

“Anything else?” Christin asked.

“Where’s yours?” Austin asked casually.

“Oh—I… I’m okay,” Christin replied, not realizing Austin had meant to order for both of them.

“Want to share?” Austin scooped a spoonful and held it out in front of Christin. “It’s good. Try it,” he said, sounding genuinely encouraging.

Christin felt awkward. Before he could respond, Austin added softly, “It’s melting—come on,” his voice still weak but insistent.

Without giving himself time to overthink, Christin leaned forward and took the bite.

Austin’s face lit up. He took a spoonful for himself, then scooped another and gestured for Christin to hurry.

Still uncertain, Christin took another bite.

Soon, they headed to bed, with Austin lying down first, as per their arrangement.

After an hour—

“Austin,” Christin whispered, checking to see if he had fallen asleep yet.

He stood up and leaned over Austin’s bed to confirm. Satisfied, he quietly crawled back into his bed and whispered again, “Austin…”

“I’m really sorry for what happened,” he continued softly. “You are very kind. If it had been someone else, they wouldn’t have forgiven me so easily. I’ll pray for your quick recovery, and—”

Austin turned onto his side, his eyes still closed, now facing Christin.

Christin felt his heart leap. He went silent, watching closely.

Austin didn’t move.

“Austin?” Christin whispered again, just to be sure. No reply. Maybe he just turned in his sleep.

He gathered his courage and continued, his voice barely audible.

“During that one week when you weren’t here, I was afraid to see you. I thought you would yell at me.” He paused. “But you didn’t...”

His throat tightened.

“I missed you,” he admitted. “And… thank you for believing in me.”

There was a long pause as Christin struggled to say what came next.

“Can we be friends, Austin?” he whispered. “Could you wait for me… just a little longer?”

Exhaustion finally overtook him, and Christin drifted into sleep.

A moment later—

“Hurry up,” Austin whispered back, a soft smile on his lips. “I’m getting impatient, Christin.”

“Good night...”