The dawn light came in pale ribbons when Lilly finally returned home. Her body ached with exhaustion, but her mind was wide awake. She had stayed at the hospital all night, watching Nathan sleep, half afraid that if she blinked too long, something would happen. The city was quiet at that hour; only the soft rhythm of early traffic murmured below her window.
She showered quickly, the steam wrapping around her like a fragile promise that she was still here, still holding everything together. Her reflection in the mirror looked foreign. Her tired eyes, lips slightly swollen from the tension of the past twenty-four hours. She dressed with mechanical care, slipped into her blouse, pencil skirt, and heels, and left for work before the world was fully awake.
By the time she reached the office, the low murmur of conversation and the rhythmic clatter of keyboards filled the air. She was halfway through replying to a client email when her phone lit up with a message:
