The hospital discharged her on Monday morning with a clipboard full of instructions and a stern warning: No stress, no overexertion, no skipping meals. Isabelle signed the release forms with a hand that still trembled slightly.
Sebastian hovered behind her the whole time, not breathing down her neck, but close enough that she could feel the heat of his concern. He didn’t speak much. He didn’t need to. His actions screamed louder than words ever could.
When they stepped outside, the sunlight hit her like something too bright for the moment. The world was still spinning, oblivious to the shift happening inside her.
Sebastian opened the car door without a word, setting a bottle of ginger water in the cupholder before helping her ease into the passenger seat.
“I can carry my own bag,” she
