The hospital room was calm that morning. The sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, accompanied by the soft beeping of medical monitors—an ordinary backdrop in an otherwise tense situation.
Selena sat upright on the hospital bed, wearing a patient’s gown, yet still managing to appear composed. Her hair was neatly tied back, and her eyes stared sharply out the window.
Julian had just returned from getting breakfast. In his hand was a paper bag from Selena’s favorite restaurant. He was trying to show he cared, but the tension in his face betrayed the storm brewing within.
“I brought your favorite croissant,” he said, placing it on the small table beside her bed.
Selena glanced at it briefly. “Is it cold already?”
Julian held his breath before forcing a small smile. “Still warm
