By the time the family doctor finished dressing Jasper's wounds, it was deep into the night.
Jasper lay on the guest room bed, drifting in and out of a feverish delirium, yet his fingers never loosened their grip on Cindy's hand.
Cindy sat by the bedside, her gaze fixed on the torrential rain outside the window.
In the past, whenever she was sick and frail, catching a single glimpse of Jasper had felt impossible.
But now, he clung tightly to her hand, as if holding onto the only thing left worth keeping.
Dawn was on the verge of breaking when Jasper finally opened his eyes. The second his gaze landed on her, he froze, then slowly released his hold.
"I'm sorry. I—"
Cindy snapped out of her daze and rose to her feet.
"Your fever's broken. Get some rest. Once you're recovered, head ba
