Rick opened the door to Alia's chambers with a quiet sigh, stepping into the scent of fresh lilacs and lavender oils.
The curtains were half drawn, casting soft golden stripes across the bed where she lay, curled up like a porcelain doll. She looked fragile. Too fragile.
He paused, guilt clawing quietly at his chest. He hadn't been here for her… not really. Not like before… not since… No. He pushed that thought down.
She was facing the wall, her back turned to him. Was she asleep? He couldn't tell from this spot. "Alia?" he said softly.
There was no response. But Rick could tell her breathing had changed a bit… it was too shallow for her to be in deep sleep.
He stepped closer and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. "I know you're awake."
Her eyes fluttered open, hazel orbs glistening beneath thick lashes. They locked on his face with a startled softness… an act of innocence she'd come to perfect over the years.
