"She's stable?" Seraphina's voice was low, strained.
Elias gave a small nod. "For now."
They stood in silence. The air between them held too much—smoke, memory, and something harder, unspoken.
"You didn't know she was there," Seraphina said, slowly.
"No." His tone wasn't cold, just flat. Careful. "You were the only name in the report."
Seraphina turned away. "She saved my life."
Elias's jaw tensed—just barely. "Yes."
Silence again. Seraphina swallowed, her voice thinner now. "She shielded me from the flames. I told you that, but… I don't think you really heard me."
"I heard you."He finally met her eyes. "I just don't know what to do with it."
Seraphina searched his face, as though trying to decipher something he hadn't yet admitted."You care about her."
Elias didn't respond. Not with words.
Instead, his gaze drifted past her—back toward the hallway, where antiseptic clung to his clothes, where a single glove lay folded on the chair beside Adeline's bed.
"I care that she's alive," he said at last.
Seraphina let out a faint, bitter smile. "That's not quite the same thing."
"Isn't it?" he asked softly.
She tilted her head, eyes fixed on him."You never even took off your gloves for me, Elias."
He said nothing.
"I used to think I wanted to be the exception," she went on, voice too light to be sincere. "But maybe… I was just the safe one."
His gaze dropped, just for a moment. "Safe doesn't mean meaningless."
"No. It doesn't."She looked toward the hospital room door."But it doesn't mean enough, either."
The silence this time was heavier. Longer. Still.
"Are you staying here tonight?" she asked eventually.
He didn't answer right away.
Then—quietly, without looking back—he said, "You should rest, Seraphina."
And with that, he turned, stepping away and leaving her behind beneath the dim hallway lights.