The five minutes on the phone felt like five seconds. Hearing my father’s voice,weak but sounding more rested than he had in months,was a balm I didn't realize I needed. Ash had kept his word, the hospital bills were gone, and my father was in a private wing with around-the-clock care.
But the cost was me.
When the door opened, I expected Ash to be the cold statue again. Instead, I found him leaning against the far wall of the hallway, his head tilted back, eyes closed. He looked… exhausted. Not the exhaustion of a man who worked too hard, but the weariness of someone holding back a flood.
"Finished?" he asked, opening his eyes. They were dark, unreadable.
"Yes," I said, handing the phone back. Our fingers brushed, and this time, the electricity didn't feel like fear. It felt like a te
