Chapter 93
Federico was already standing by the window when Azalea came into the room. His back was to her, the soft light spilling across the floor highlighting his tall frame. His left leg, though still bandaged, no longer looked stiff. He turned at the sound of her steps, and the corner of his mouth curved upward.
“You’re walking,” she said, her face lighting up with genuine relief.
“I have to keep moving,” he replied, flexing the injured leg a little as if to prove his point. “The doctor said the wound is healing nicely. Another few days and I should be able to put more weight on it.”
Azalea walked toward him, her gaze sweeping over him carefully. It wasn’t just his recovery that reassured her—it was the strength in his voice, the fire back in his eyes. The accident, meant to weake
