The room settled into a different kind of silence once the door closed behind Victor.
It was not the careful, respectful quiet that nurses carried with them when they stepped around a hospital bed. This silence felt heavier. It held the presence of everything that had not been said in the hallway and everything that both of them knew now existed between them.
Willow kept her eyes on the small stuffed lamb resting beside her hand. Its soft wool looked absurdly innocent in the sterile light of the hospital room. The stitched smile seemed permanently content, untouched by the complicated world it had been brought into. Her fingers brushed the toy lightly, the movement slow and tired.
Across the bed, Zane remained standing for a moment.
He did not rush toward her.
He did not immediately sit.
