The drive to the hotel felt dreamlike, the kind of quiet that only follows a week of alarms, monitors, and the constant churn of medical urgency. Willow rested against the seat with her abdomen braced carefully by the small pillow the nurse insisted she take home. Outside, the city passed in soft blurs of light, yet inside the SUV the world felt muted and suspended, as if everything around her was learning how to slow down for her sake.
Zane kept one hand on the wheel and watched her with quiet attention. He did not hover and he did not crowd her space. He simply observed the rhythm of her breathing in the way someone watches a flame that nearly disappeared in the wind. When she winced as the car rolled over a shallow crack in the road, his jaw tightened slightly. He did not comment on it. Instead he adjusted his speed, guiding the vehicle forward more gently as though he had memorized the shape of every uneven patch of pavement.
