The next morning, the sun spilled pale light into the corridors of the hospital. Damon walked steadily toward the VIP ward, a paper bag of breakfast balanced in his hand. The scent of warm bread and coffee trailed with him, though his thoughts were far heavier than the food he carried.
When he pushed open the door, his eyes fell on Lyra. She was bent over Caleb’s bed, gently tucking the blanket beneath the boy’s chin. Caleb stirred faintly, his lashes damp from the night’s tears, but he settled at her touch.
Lyra straightened quickly, a smile flickering across her face as though rehearsed. She smoothed the wrinkles in her dress, her voice soft. “Damon… you came. And you brought breakfast too. Thank you.”
Damon set the bag on the side table, his gaze steady. “You shouldn’t thank
