The hospital room smelled faintly of disinfectant and lilies, a strange combination that clung to the air. Jamiro had brought the lilies, their ivory petals now opening slowly on the table by the window, while the antiseptic scent belonged to the place that had become their second home. For days, Alliah had been undergoing her new line of therapy, a more aggressive treatment that both she and Jamiro had agreed upon after careful discussions with her doctors. At first, there was cautious hope—the therapy promised breakthroughs that could restore strength to her weakening body. But now, sitting beside her hospital bed, Jamiro could not ignore the tremors that rippled through her thin frame, the pale shade of her cheeks, the way fatigue seemed to press down on her like an invisible weight.
A
