Eliana's heart twisted at Henry's words, each syllable tugging at the delicate threads of their shared past. She pushed herself a little higher against the pillows, their thin fabric rustling softly as she adjusted. Her hospital gown slipped off one shoulder, exposing a sliver of warm skin to the cool air. The monitors beside her murmured in steady, mechanical beeps—a quiet reminder of how fragile she still was.
She reached out and took both of Henry's hands in hers. Her touch was gentle, but there was a firmness in the way her fingers curled around his, as if grounding them both. When she looked up, her eyes—deep, expressive, impossible to guard against—locked onto his. For a heartbeat, the whole room seemed to grow still. Even the distant chatter of nurses and the rolling of carts down the hallway faded into silence.
"Henry…" Her voice wavered, thick with emotion. "I love you."
The words hit him like a lightning strike.
