Marcus's POV
The beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room—steady, mechanical, a reminder I was still here. Barely. My chest felt like someone had lodged a boulder under my ribs.
I'd closed my eyes for what I thought would be a moment when I heard the door click open. Soft steps. Hesitant. Not the brisk tread of Damon. Not Aria's lighter step.
And then—
"Marcus?"
My eyes flew open. The voice hit me like a blade—sharp, pulling me back decades.
She stood there, framed by the dull fluorescent light from the hallway. Same auburn hair, streaked now with silver. Her eyes—God, those eyes—were still the same green I'd once sworn I'd drown in.
"Margaret," I rasped. My throat was raw. "What… what are you doing here?"
She clutched a folded slip of paper in her hand, a hospital registration form. "I came for a check-up. I was at the reception desk and saw the patient register."
