The silence between them was heavy, like the breathing of strangers, but their gazes were deep and wisely hid the longing they dared not admit.
As no words answered his calling, Callum smiled and asked for a cup of coffee.
"Coffee is not good on an empty stomach."
Callum's eyes, still shadowed by sleep and too many dreams, watched her movements with focus, reading her, searching for something to start a warm conversation —or maybe an argument was also fine. His eyes noticed her hand shaking and asked, "Did you drink too much coffee?"
Sera extended the cup of water to him with her hands, trying to be steady.
"Indeed."
Then, again, neither spoke.
---
The rising sun stained the wooden floors with a warm amber glow. Sera reached into her pocket and pulled out a small sachet—dried peppermint paired with frankincense, stitched unevenly, handmade.
She suspends it in the air, letting the light warm it as it slowly twirls.
"Are you the one who sent this?" she said softly, eyes never leaving the sachet.
Callum looked at it, then at her. "I am glad it reached you. And why did you keep it?"
"I couldn't throw it away."
The corner of his lip twitched—half a smile. It lingered a moment before vanishing, and Sera didn't catch it. She didn't see the affection he displayed.
Then he answered, " It is said that frankincense is an embodiment of prayer and protection. Thus, I sent it, hopeful that Heaven will always listen to my prayer, to make you and your comrades safe."
He paused.
"... ALWAYS."
Sera stared at him.
"Thank you." There was a hidden smile in her eyes. Was it gratitude or more than that? Callum cannot tell.
Later, while watching the sachet, a sudden question came to her,
"Callum, how many sachets have you given Dahlia before?'
"None."
'Why?"
"Maybe I could have given her a hundred. However, I only learned to make perfumed sachets after meeting sister Laura."
Sera's silence became thick. If it has color, the room has already become black.
Then, Callum added, "At first, it was supposed to be a perfumed stone bracelet or a necklace. However, those things are more like a fashion or beauty parade. Thus, I choose to make it into a sachet, appealing more intimately to its purpose."
Sera nodded her head. Eyes filled with satisfaction now.
---
Minutes passed.
"I—" she began, but then fell silent again. Her voice was breathless with caution, as she couldn't find the confidence to ask the lingering question in her mind.
Then, in finality, she asked, "What time will your breakfast arrive?"
"Seven."
"Then, your doctor?"
"1:00."
Then, silence fell again— longer this time.
Sera's fingers curled around the ceramic as she looked at him again, demanding an explanation or apology. But Callum does not understand the meaning of her stares, not until he sees Marcus outside the door window, writing the word Dahlia in the air.
Callum paused and took a breath. "I was trapped with Dahlia for 3 days. And actually... "
He leaned forward, eyes brightening with unexpected energy, the shift in mood so sudden it startled Sera slightly.
"You remember that list you made for us? The one with emergency kits and a ton of supplies, iodine, butterfly closures, saline packets, water, and foodstuff, I said not necessary?"
Sera blinked, then smiled under her breath. "Of course I do. You said it was overkill."
"I was wrong... so wrong!" Callum said, shaking his head with mock remorse. "That bulky kit saved us. Dahlia scraped her arm on corrugated metal—it was deep."
He extended his arm and demonstrated as he spoke. "Sera, it looks terrible—and the rescue training Marcus and I had in college had helped. They made me appear to be an expert in the medical field. When we ran out of clean gauze on the third day, I sterilized my torn shirt with alcohol like they taught us. I wrapped her arm and— amazed, she called me 'Nurse Callum'."
Sera suddenly felt light.
"That's better than her usual nickname for you. If I remembered right, Marcus was laughing every time you called each other Honey."
He smiled—genuine now, not the polished kind meant to deflect hurt.
"You were far, yet you were there, in that way, somehow you still took care of us."
Sera's gaze softened. "You are exaggerating."
"Well, that's how I felt."
A quiet settled between them, this time gentle. Outside, a breeze stirred the window sheets, sending the smell of wet earth into the room.
Callum looked at the pouch again, then back at her. "Is the smell still there? I can make another one."
"It's still strong, yet you should still make another, as they say the more the merrier," Sera said, her voice low but steady.
---
The wall clock read 1:00—its steady ticks louder than they had any right to be.
Callum, Marcus, and Jonas waited, playing cards on the bed, already dressed, though not for anything in particular, just no longer for being ill. The light outside had turned flat and warm, pouring through the blinds in quiet slabs.
Dr. Reyes knocked gently before stepping in, his coat folded over one arm instead of worn. That alone felt like a signal.
"You're good to go," he said, voice low but clear. "Discharge's been approved. Bloodwork's clean. Strength's holding. And your wife had settled the bill and other documents."
Callum blinked. He hadn't expected the words to come so simply. A part of him had braced for one more test, one more delay.
"Doctor, are you sure?" Jonas asked.
Dr. Reyes smiled. "I am. I've signed the forms. You just need to decide what's next."
Marcus grinned and teased, "Doctor, are there no other precautions... like excessive improper positions?"
Callum smirked, understanding the underlying dirt in his words.
Dr. Reyes chuckled, shaking his head. "With how fit this guy is? His body's cleared for impact—eight rounds tonight, no problem."
The room erupted in silent laughter, every man there nodding like members of a secret brotherhood.
Then, as if summoned by their rowdiness, the door creaked open.
All laughter died.
Callum turned his back, pretending to zip up his bag like it was the most critical task in that moment. Jonas and Marcus, sensing the shift in atmosphere, immediately grabbed their empty coffee cups and sipped in sync, like guilty friends trying to fade into the background.
The silence buzzed.
Then came Sera's voice—calm, smooth, and deadly direct:
"Eight is not enough. No sleeping is what I want. Maybe a whole night is not enough as well."
Jonas choked on air.
Marcus stared into his empty mug, as if it might offer answers, shocked at how his sister had such a hidden mind as his.
Callum froze—bag half-zipped—then slowly turned, lips twitching into a grin.
"Doctor, I think I'll need an extension on that discharge."
Dr. Reyes burst out laughing. "At this rate, I might have to admit both of you."