The sun filtered through the half-drawn blinds of the hospital room, casting long, golden lines across the pale blue blanket tucked around Ella's legs. Morning had arrived slowly, the world outside resuming its rhythm, but inside the room, time moved differently—unrushed, careful. Like everything that followed had to honor the stillness that came before.
Nicholas stood near the window, speaking in a low voice to the attending physician. Ella couldn't hear the words—just the tone. Calm, clipped. Controlled. He didn't ask questions. He made statements. Confirmed instructions. Requested her medications be delivered directly to the penthouse. Nothing escaped his attention. Not the paperwork, not the scheduled follow-up, not even the softening of the doctor's expression when Nicholas reached for the discharge folder with a nod that said, she comes first.
