Anne's eyes fluttered open, blinking against the soft light. The first thing she saw was Augustine, sitting right beside her, his gaze locked on her face like he hadn't looked away once.
"You are awake," he said gently, relief spilling into his voice. His hand tightened around hers. "How are you feeling? Any dizziness? Anything hurting?"
Anne gave him a faint smile, though her chest felt heavy. The memories of what had happened—Margaret's rage, the accusation, the slap, the pendant—rushed back in fragments. Still, she tried to push it down.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I must have scared you."
"Don't apologize," Augustine said, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Of course, I was scared." He stopped himself and exhaled, brushing her cheek with his fingers. "But the doctor checked everything. You are okay. And you need to stay that way. No more stress, understand?"
She nodded, eyes searching his. "So… what did the doctor say, exactly?"
