CALLUM
Lila had not been exaggerating when she said she needed a quick nap. Within minutes of settling into the armchair her body gave in to sleep, the exhaustion in her features smoothing away as if someone had gently erased it. I stood across the room and watched the tension drain from her face. When she was awake there was always something restless about her, a quiet alertness behind her eyes as though the world required constant negotiation. In sleep that vigilance disappeared. Her breathing settled into a slow, steady rhythm that filled the otherwise silent room, soft enough that I might have missed it if my hearing were not what it was.
For a moment I simply watched her. The hospital suite was dim except for the muted light filtering through the blinds. It fell across her hair and
