The following morning, Jessica stirred awake to the sound of soft footsteps and the faint clinking of dishes. She blinked groggily, the sunlight filtering through the curtains making her squint. Turning her head, she spotted Armando placing a tray on the bedside table.
“Good morning,” he said softly, his usually sharp tone replaced with warmth. He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. “How are you feeling?”
Jessica smiled faintly, her voice still raspy from sleep. “Better, I think. What’s all this?”
Armando straightened, gesturing to the tray. “Breakfast. And before you argue, it’s bland—toast, fruit, and tea. I wasn’t sure what you could handle.”
Her chest tightened at the thoughtfulness behind his gesture. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” he replied firm
