Ethan hesitated. The truth was complicated, layered with things he couldn't explain. At least not without revealing too much. "She has been through a lot," he said simply.
The doctor nodded. "Then treat her gently. She'll need time."
When the doctor left, Ethan called for his mother to bring something from the kitchen. He locked the door again and pulled the blanket up over Clara's shoulders. She stirred slightly.
A knock came, and he opened the door just enough to let his mother in. She set a tray on the bedside table...a bowl of soup, fresh bread, and a glass of water. She didn't say a word, but she looked at him for a long moment.
He looked back, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and worry. She just nodded and slipped out, closing the door behind her.
Ethan reached for Clara, easing her gently into his arms. She felt so small against him, her weight almost nothing, but the heaviness in her silence pressed hard on his chest.
Without a word, he reached for the bowl of soup on the nightstand, holding it in one hand while his other stayed wrapped around her.
"Open your mouth," he murmured softly, coaxing her with a lot of patience.
She obeyed, taking each spoonful in the pin drop silence of the room. Ethan didn't rush her, he waited between bites, watching her, making sure she was eating enough.
When the bowl was empty, he set it aside and handed her a glass of water, steadying it in her hands until she finished. Then, with the same care, he helped her back into bed, pulling the blanket over her.
Her eyes fluttered shut within minutes, her breathing deep and even. Ethan stayed with her for a moment, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. He also got in the bed, settling in beside her. She could shower once she woke up. Right now, all she needed was rest.