His forehead comes to rest against mine.
The touch is light—almost hesitant—but it steals my breath anyway.
"But from now on," Rion whispers, his voice low, steady, carrying the weight of a vow rather than a promise, "I won't leave you alone. Not even for a second."
The knock comes too suddenly.
I flinch and straighten at once, turning my face away, heat rushing to my cheeks before I can stop it.
The door opens, and a nurse steps inside, her movements careful, practiced. She carries a tray arranged with meticulous precision—warm soup, soft bread, a balanced meal meant for someone fragile.
"Good evening, sir," she says gently.
I nod, unable to meet her eyes.
She walked closer and continued, her voice gentle but firm, "It's your dinner time. You're very weak right now—you must finish this entire meal. It's doctor's orders."
Does she know?
