Grace called Mary, explaining what had happened. Mary's voice came faint through the receiver — she was still at the ward, unable to leave, but said Eli's sister was already on her way.
When the call ended, Grace sat beside him again. His hand had fallen loosely over the edge of the sofa. She took it, held it between hers, and began to rub slow circles with her thumb — not to wake him, but to remind herself that he was still there, still breathing.
By the time Clare arrived, Grace was still there, quietly watching him sleep — her eyes soft, her hand never leaving his.
For the first time, she realized the depth of her concern for him. It was no longer just duty or kindness — it was something that tugged at her heart in a way she hadn't expected. Something that made her want to stay, even when she knew she had to let go.
A new, unspoken warmth had settled in Grace's chest, and she couldn't tell if it was fear, affection, or the very beginning of something far deeper.