The memory faded as Delilah blinked, her vision adjusting to the light of the bedroom.
Her eyelashes were still damp, her cheeks streaked with traces of her earlier tears.
She blinked rapidly, forcing herself to push back the emotions threatening to surface. Her hand moved to her cheeks, wiping away any remaining evidence before the door creaked open.
Marco stepped inside silently, dressed in a crisp white shirt that hugged his broad shoulders. His short, black hair was stylishly messy, as if he had just run his fingers through it.
He carried a lap tray filled with food, his expression a mix of focus and excitement.
As he quietly shut the door behind him, his gaze finally landed on her.
"You’re awake," he said, a slight frown creasing his forehead.
Delilah quickly sat up, pullin
