The heating in the room was turned up high.
Mia Grant was under a thick quilt. Although her forehead was beaded with sweat, her hands and feet were still ice-cold.
She hugged a pillow, trying to curl herself into a tiny ball.
On the vast bed, the small bundle that was her took up only a fraction of the space.
The door closed, blocking out the light from the hallway.
A ring of wall sconces was on, casting a warm, yellow glow, but the light was even dimmer than in the hallway.
Still, they provided just enough light to see.
The room was so quiet that the only sound was the ticking of the second hand on an old clock on the wall.
Hayes Hughes tiptoed in, his leather shoes sinking into the carpet, muffling what little sound they made.
From a distance, the large bed in the center of the room appeared to be empty.
But there was no light coming from the bathroom either...
Thinking she wasn't there, Hayes Hughes stopped, paused for a moment, and prepared to leave.
