The room had gone quiet, save for the soft, rhythmic beep of the monitor beside the bed. White walls gleamed under the fluorescent lights, the sterile air of the hospital carrying a strange weight as though it, too, was holding its breath.
Roman sat hunched on the edge of the chair beside Tessy's hospital bed, elbows resting on his thighs, hands loosely clasped. His tall frame looked strained, as if he was carrying more than just a physical weight. His usual commanding presence had dimmed under the tension of not knowing what was wrong with his beloved.
He reached forward and brushed the back of his hand across her forehead again. His brows creased deeper as he felt the heat against her skin—she was still burning up.
