**[Grace Free Clinic – Day Five Post-Op]**
Nathan's fingers twitched again.
Aileen noticed first. She sat beside him, sketchbook in lap, pencil unmoving. She hadn't drawn a line since he'd woken up, afraid the act would soften something that should stay hard.
But now, his hand shifted toward hers on the blanket.
She didn't pull away.
He opened his eyes. Still tired. Still pale. But steady.
“Morning," she said quietly.
“Still here?" he rasped.
She smirked faintly. “Don't flatter yourself. The food's free."
He chuckled—then winced.
“Careful," she murmured. “Laughter is dangerous. You're fragile now."
He glanced at her lap. “You stopped drawing."
She looked down. “Didn't want to romanticize you again."
He nodded, accepting that.
A long pause.
“Was the transplant clean?" he aske
