Lyra glanced toward the bathroom and piped up, “Mommy’s in there taking a shower.”
Darius hummed in acknowledgment, his voice deep and unreadable. “Did you ask her to shower in here?”
Lyra shook her head. “No. Mommy brought her clothes over herself.”
He said nothing after that. Just stayed with her a moment longer, telling her to rest, before leaving the room.
From the bathroom, I heard his footsteps. I knew he had come in but couldn’t make out his words. Lyra was still pale and drowsy from the fever medication, and my own body was weighed down with exhaustion. After my shower, I climbed into bed beside her.
She curled into me instantly, her small hands clinging to my shirt, her cheek rubbing against my shoulder.
“Mommy smells so good,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.
