After Eli's check-up, the doctor scribbled his notes and gave a calm smile, adjusting his glasses.
"He just needs to stay one more day for observation," the man explained gently. "His vitals are stable, and aside from exhaustion and the strain from the dust and rubble in his lungs, there's nothing too alarming. The difficulty in speaking should fade after some more rest. His voice will return in time."
Eli let out a slow breath, relief washing faintly through him—but it was short-lived. The moment the door clicked shut behind the doctor, Elois's composure shattered like glass.
Her hands flew to her face, shoulders heaving. "Elione…" Her sobs spilled into the sterile air of the room, raw, trembling. Tears streamed between her fingers, dripping onto the edge of his blanket.
Eli's chest tightened. He wanted—needed—to say something, anything. To reassure her. But all that left him was silence, his throat burning with useless effort.
