At Lincoln International Hospital, the night air was cold and still.
When their car rolled to a smooth stop in the basement parking lot, the clock on the dashboard read nine o'clock.
The underground space was nearly empty. Only a few cars were scattered across the vast concrete floor.
Evelyn glanced around, surprised. "Did you clear the area for us to come?" she asked quietly, half-joking, half-serious.
Axel sat beside her, composed as always. "No, this is not my hospital..." he answered with a faint smile. Then he lifted a hand and pointed toward the glass entrance ahead. "But he did."
Evelyn turned, and her lips curved into a knowing smile when she saw the familiar figure waiting by the door, hands in his coat pockets, posture firm but relaxed, like a man standing before his own home.
"Ah. I forgot this is Lincoln's hospital," she murmured. "Of course, we can visit without half the city watching."
