Isla’s POV
I woke up to the sound of drawers opening and closing, followed by the faint rustle of fabric. The room was still dim, with the early morning light barely seeping through the curtains. As my eyes adjusted, I turned my head to see Oliver standing by the wardrobe, buttoning his shirt in a haste.
For a moment, I just watched him. The way his hands moved swiftly, his expression focused yet calm—it reminded me of how much had changed in the past few days.
Ever since I fell ill, Oliver had been so different. His kindness hadn’t just been fleeting or a temporary act of concern. Even now, fully recovered and back to my usual self, he remained attentive, thoughtful, and respectful. He made me feel seen, like I truly mattered to him. It was a side of Oliver I hadn’t seen, and it left m
