Lucas sat quietly on the big white swing in the garden, his jacket resting beside him and his phone pressed to his ear. The night was calm, the air cool, and the lights from inside the hotel ballroom glowed softly through the glass doors. The faint sounds of music and talk faded behind him as he leaned back, listening.
On the other end of the line was Elena. She was sitting alone on a hard plastic bench outside a hospital room. The bright white light above her made her look pale and weary. Her hands were locked together tightly, her face filled with exhaustion.
When Lucas answered, his voice was calm, quiet, and steady — the kind of voice that had always comforted her.
"Elena," he said softly.
She took a shaky breath, pressing the phone close. "Lucas... you picked up," she whispered, her tone tired but full of relief.
"I always do," he said in that same gentle tone. "You sound worn out. What's going on?"
