Viola’s gaze drops to our hands before lifting to Oliver. Her eyes subtly narrow as she studies him the same way a healer studies a wound that refuses to close.
“You look like hell,” Viola taunts flatly before her attention shifts to me, softening, just a fraction.
“You look… better than expected.”
She stands there a moment longer, stern as ever, before something cracks. The next second, she’s pulling me into a fierce hug, strong arms wrapping around my ribs and knocking the breath from my lungs. I wriggle to give myself just enough room to breathe and slide my arms behind her back as she buries her face into my shoulder, while my chin settles against the top of her head.
“Thanks?” The word escapes me when she finally releases her grip, leaving me unsure whether to feel reassured or i
