His jaw tightened. His eyes darkened despite himself.
Enough.
The rustling stopped. A moment later, the shadows retreated, unusually quiet, as if even they understood they had pushed close to a line.
He turned back slowly.
She lay there now in her nightdress, the blanket drawn neatly over her, her body finally relaxed, no sign of discomfort left behind. Her breathing was deeper, calmer. Peaceful.
He exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders. Sitting beside her, he adjusted the blanket once more and brushed his knuckles lightly against the back of her hand, a touch barely there.
"Sleep," he murmured, more to himself than to her.
He had already begun to rise, careful and slow, easing his weight away so the mattress wouldn't dip, when her fingers curled around his wrist.
It wasn't strong. Just a soft, instinctive grip, warm and trusting, as if her body had decided before her mind could wake.
"Don't leave…" she murmured, the words slurred and fragile.
He stilled.
