The journey to the hospital unfolded in silence, stretching on like an invisible thread drawn taut between tension and calm. The rhythmic hum of tires against the asphalt was the only sound that dared to break the stillness inside the car. Serena sat stiffly, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes occasionally drifting toward the man beside her.
Lucian looked like a marble statue—untouchable, unreadable, serene. His head rested heavily against the seat's headrest, eyes shut as if in deep slumber or meditation, his breathing slower than before, though still far from normal.
His palm clenched tightly every once in a while and his jaw worked in unison. Serena knew he was trying to hold in the pain that attacked him every few minutes. He hadn't moved a muscle since they began this drive, giving the impression that any disturbance might shatter something fragile within him.
