Roman was sitting up on the edge of the bed when Dr. Adams walked in. He wasn’t sleeping. Just sitting there, hands loosely clasped, gaze lowered like he’d been listening to something only he could hear.
“You look good,” Dr. Adams said lightly as she closed the door behind her. “You’re upright.”
Roman looked up.
There was no panic in his expression. No confusion. Just that steady, watchful calm he seemed to default to.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
Dr. Adams almost smiled. “No. Quite the opposite.”
Roman exhaled like he had been holding his breath.
Dr. Adams walked closer, flipping open the thin file she carried more out of habit than necessity. She’d memorized the contents already.
“You’ve responded well,” she said. “Physically, you’re stable. No residual complications from the
