Elizabeth stood close to Miguel, carefully helping him into his shirt. His movements were slow and deliberate, his body rebelling against even the smallest effort.
His right arm felt as though it was dislocated—though it wasn’t—and the tight bandages around his head and ribs were a reminder of the ordeal he had survived.
“You’re lucky I’m here to help, you know,” Elizabeth teased lightly, adjusting the shirt so it wouldn’t irritate his bandages. “Otherwise, you’d be stuck wearing a hospital gown all day," she added.
Miguel let out a soft chuckle, but the pain quickly replaced it with a wince. “And we both know I’d rather crawl out of here than let that happen,” he said.
Elizabeth smirked but didn’t reply, her focus shifting to his collar. She could feel his mood darkened as his mind
