Miles placed a palm against the glass dividing him from his son. He whispered, “If you stay. If you fight. I will never leave you again. I swear that the next sunrise we see together will be ours.”
Morning bled slowly into the sky. The hospital cafeteria filled with quiet voices. Miles had not moved from his chair. He watched Tessa stir. Her eyelids fluttered open.
He rushed to her side. She blinked up at him, confusion crossing her features before clarity settled in.
“You came back,” she whispered.
He nodded. “I am here. I am here now. I will not disappear again. I am sorry. I cannot undo what happened, but if you let me, I will rebuild piece by piece.”
Her gaze softened. She did not answer. She did not need to. The faint pressure of her fingers tightening around his spoke enough.
Two days later, doctors confirmed that both patients were stabilizing. Cal required weeks in the pediatric wing. Tessa would remain under observation for at least a month. Miles rented a room across the street from the hospital, refusing to be further than a heartbeat away.