Time did not pass gently.
It didn't glide.
It dragged on.
The first hours still carried an active tension—constant movements, attentive glances, repeated attempts to provoke any reaction from Damon. But as the clock ticked on, what had once been urgency began to transform into something heavier… more silent.
Persistence.
Damon didn't move.
There were no spasms.
There was no worsening.
But there was no improvement either.
And that—
that was what was most exhausting.
The morning light, which had previously filled the room with a soft, natural tone, began to slowly change over the hours. The vibrant gold gave way to paler tones, then cooler ones, and at a certain point—almost imperceptible—it was no longer morning.
It was late.
And yet—
Nothing.
Elizabeth remained by his side the entire time.
Without interruptions.
No distractions.
