Emily remained in bed for three days.
Three long, restless days where the world outside her room continued moving while she lay still.
Arthur was always with her, trying his best to make her recover smoothly and providing whatever she needed, he never left her side.
He had a chair pulled close to her bedside, close enough that if she so much as shifted beneath the covers, he would notice.
He had begun taking his meals there too.
Trays were brought up quietly by the maids, set on the small table near the window, and Arthur would eat without ceremony while keeping one eye on her.
The first morning she was lucid enough to complain, “You don’t have to watch me breathe,” she murmured weakly.
“I am not watching you breathe,” he replied calmly as he poured water into a glass.
She
