Kaudupul
Chapter 3
If you’ve made it this far, I guess you liked it… 😻
So don’t forget to vote and comment!
Love youuuu… ♡
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Alsu~
At first, the buzzing I heard slowly turned into words I could understand. A deep voice was asking another slightly softer one about the doctor. Then I heard more voices, and someone left the room. But the other? Was I in a hospital? Yet the bed I was lying on felt too comfortable to be a hospital bed.
When I took a deep breath, a sharp pain made itself known. I forced myself to open my eyes as the recent events flooded back into my memory. My barely opened eyes wandered across the ceiling first. It was decorated in warm, not-too-boring shades of brown.
“I’m glad you’re awake. I hope you’re feeling okay. But the doctor is on the way for your wound — don’t strain your right arm too much,” a voice said.
Turning my head left, I saw him sitting on a leather armchair — **the Pakhan**, the one who had forced me into his car. Using my left arm, I sat up and turned to face him. Now that we were alone, we could talk calmly.
“You forced me into your car,” I said quietly in English, “Right after that woman — who you called an old duck — got upset because you don’t know how to treat women properly.”
His eyes scanned over me for a few moments. Then his golden eyes lifted to meet mine. I’ve never seen eyes like his before — so yellow, so intense, they were almost terrifying. For a second, I feared they could see right into my heart, my thoughts.
“You’re right,” he finally said after a long silence. But again, minutes passed before he continued. It was like he was staring at me while having a deep internal conversation. “I just… got worried.”
That’s when I noticed the drink in his hand, which he casually downed in one gulp.
“I could have handled it myself. And besides, you don’t even know me. Why would you be worried about me?” I asked, trying to understand what he was doing and why.
“I don’t know,” he repeated after clearing his throat, shrugging his shoulders and hands as if to emphasize it. Minutes passed again, yet we hadn’t broken eye contact — like we were in a silent contest, waiting to see who would look away first.
When there was a knock on the door, my eyes involuntarily shifted toward it. In his deep voice, he said “come in,” and the man who had been with him earlier entered.
“The doctor is here,” he said in Russian.
When I looked back at him, his golden eyes were still fixed on me.
“Come on,” he said, standing and offering his hand to help me up. “The doctor’s here,” he explained in English.
I rolled my eyes and ignored his hand, getting up on my own. I saw my sneakers on the floor, but instead of putting them on, I walked barefoot toward the door.
The dark color scheme continued into the living room. From the bedroom, I could see the living area ahead, the kitchen on the right, a wall-long bookshelf on the left, and large terrace doors. Just beside the main door, there was a work desk.
“Sit on the couch,” he said, lightly touching my shoulder. I flinched, but hid it and did as he said.
On the coffee table, there was a first-aid kit, a bowl of water, and a towel. Near the door stood two guards and an older woman who appeared to be a maid. As always, his bodyguard stayed close by. When the doctor entered, everyone in the room gave him a respectful nod.
The middle-aged doctor adjusted his glasses, sat on a single chair to my right, and began arranging supplies from the first-aid kit.
“Let me check your wound,” he said. I leaned forward a little and extended my arm. After examining it, he turned to the Pakhan.
“Nothing too serious. A knife cut. I’ll clean the wound and give a few stitches.”
Hearing the word **stitches** made my stomach churn. I’d always been afraid of sharp objects — needles, knives, all of it. I took deep breaths to calm myself while he began cleaning the wound. The dried blood made it sting more. Unable to bear it, I groaned in pain.
“Use the anesthetic before continuing,” Pakhan said firmly. The doctor nodded and picked up a syringe that had been set aside.
As soon as I saw the huge needle, I recoiled in fear and instinctively leaned toward him, hiding against his muscular arm.
“No needles, please…” I whispered in English. His arm reflexively wrapped around me, shielding me. The doctor paused in confusion, and Pakhan’s voice came again.
“Without the needle, Fyodor.”
“I only have the needle,” the doctor said, holding it up.
Pakhan looked between him and me, then turned to his guard, Sergey. With just a glance, the man nodded and left the room. Within minutes, he returned and resumed his position.
“I sent someone to get the right medication,” Sergey explained.
I was relieved to avoid the needle, but now uncomfortably aware of how closely I was clinging to those intense golden eyes. I quickly pulled away.
Silence fell over the room again. The doctor handed me a painkiller for now.
Ten minutes later, another man entered with a small bag of medication and left just as quickly. The doctor applied a numbing cream to my arm and waited a few minutes. I didn’t watch what he did next, but I felt him clean the wound and stitch it up. I just kept my eyes closed and waited.
About ten minutes later, the doctor stood up. I opened my eyes as he moved. Though I couldn’t look at my arm, I saw Pakhan still watching everything intensely. When I looked at him, his eyes immediately locked onto mine again.
“May I use the bathroom?” I asked. He nodded.
“In the bedroom,” he said, pointing the way.
Get Kamelia’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
I returned to the room I had woken up in. Once alone, I found a dressing room on the left and another room opposite it, likely the bathroom. After washing my hands and splashing cold water on my face, I reminded myself I had to leave. I dried off and stepped out, only to find him waiting for me.
His gaze roamed over me, making me uncomfortable. So I quickly spoke.
“I need to go. Even though bringing me here was wrong, thank you for the doctor.” I turned to leave, but he stepped in front of me.
“It’s too late. You can’t leave at this hour,” he said, eyes never leaving mine.
“At least call a taxi — ”
“Taxis don’t come here. I don’t allow them on my property.”
“Then have one of your men — ”
“My men are resting at this hour.”
A wave of frustration spread through my body. How could he be so calm while I was feeling this angry and uncomfortable?
“I want to go home! You brought me here against my will, so now you *have* to help me get back!”
My throat dried as I raised my voice, but I ignored it.
“Please calm down. It’s 2 AM. What’s the point in leaving now? Stay tonight, I’ll take you home in the morning,” he said, completely unfazed — as if this was all normal.
“Are you insane?! If you knew I couldn’t leave on my own, why did you bring me here?”
My breaths were getting faster, and my already tired lungs started to ache. He must’ve noticed too — his calm demeanor suddenly changed, and I saw the worry in his eyes.
“Calm down. Breathe deeply. A second panic attack in one day will be terrible for your lungs.”
“Why do you even care? Let me go!” I shouted.
“Stay the night. We’ll go tomorrow. Please calm down.”
He tried to touch my arm, but I pulled away.
“Don’t touch me!” My vision was blurring, and I was breathing harder.
When I stumbled, he rushed forward and caught me. “I said let go!” I could barely speak. He lifted me and laid me on the bed, grabbed my asthma inhaler from the nightstand, and held it to my lips. After a few breaths, I began to feel better.
“Sleep here tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said before getting up. He clearly didn’t want to leave the room, but composed himself and walked out, closing the door behind him.
I paced the room a few times angrily, realizing I had no way out. I had no choice but to accept it. My clothes were uncomfortable and in bad shape, so I headed to the dressing room. His cologne was stronger here — distractingly pleasant. I shook it off and looked around. Most clothes were formal, but eventually I found a comfortable, oversized navy T-shirt that reached my knees.
After washing up again and tying my hair, I turned off the lights and got into the soft bed. Only the night lamp on my bedside table lit the room. Exhausted, I fell asleep quickly.
~~~~
The annoying sunlight woke me. I didn’t know what time it was, but I felt well-rested. Just as I was about to stretch, I felt a weight on my waist and warmth behind me. Anxiety returned quickly.
I tried to turn around, but the body on top of mine was too heavy. When I turned my head, I saw his face. He was clinging tightly to me, face buried in my neck, clearly in deep sleep.
I tried to wiggle free. “Hey, wake up! Let me go!”
He stirred and opened his sleepy eyes, looking far too relaxed.
“What the hell are you doing here?!” I shouted, pushing his shoulder.
“Good morning…” he muttered with half-closed eyes, watching me.
He really is insane..
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hello, babes 💭☆
How’s everyone doing? Life treating you okay?
What did you think of the new chapter?
Please forgive any typos…
Can’t wait for your votes and comments! 💖
💬 If you’re enjoying “Kaudupul”, hit the follow button and stay tuned for the next chapter!
