Mrs. Fletcher's eyes glazed over as she fell into a memory.
After a moment, she seemed to recall something. With dawning realization, she stammered, "You… you…"
"Mom, you should get back in bed and rest," Nathan Fletcher said, supporting Mrs. Fletcher as he guided her to the bed.
Mrs. Fletcher's body was frail, and while she let Nathan guide her, her eyes remained fixed on Holly Wyatt, as if afraid she would vanish at any moment.
Holly Wyatt bit her lower lip and glanced at Silas Thornton's handsome profile. The sight seemed to ground her, calming the fluttering in her heart. She stepped forward, stopping a short distance from the hospital bed—not too close, not too far. It was a safe, impersonal distance.
Mrs. Fletcher seemed to sense her deliberate distance. Her eyes, red-rimmed like a rabbit's, welled up, and a flush crept over her pale face. Her lips parted and closed several times, but her throat felt constricted, and no words came out.
